The Shadow's Wife
by CheeriosAreSquare
Summary: Based on Susan Kay. an unexpected romance blooms in Persia during Erik's stay. Erik/OC
1. Chapter 1

The morning sun glistened outside, leaving a shadow over a city that awoke like a giant, its streets beginning to fill with the peddlers and the noise, the baaing of the sheep and the singing of the birds, that Amira was so accustomed to was blocked out. The heavily draped windows only offered a glint of that sweltering Persian sun. Her long lashes, curled and thick, fluttered like a butterfly ready to fly off to reveal a twin of emerald green eyes that scanned the room. Amira, whose name had meant fortunate, was not so certain that she had lived to her blessed name. Turning around, her eyes caught the familiar designs that she had so often seen adorn the palace with so much more concentration that she had never quite noticed. And then her eyes trailed down lower where the white sheets meshed with her legs, covering them so delicately as bits of flesh were visible and then the blood-red stains on the sheets. With a groan, she plopped back onto the pillows, hands over her face and a sick feeling in her stomach as she strained to curl into a fetal position under the blankets.

"Oh, Allah!" She breathily whispered, whimpering. She was so ashamed of what she had done! Duty it may have been but a part of her knew this was nothing she had prepared for. She could only keep muttering and praying for forgiveness. Oh cursed, cursed world! She had barely turned fifteen and had been chosen as a gift of some sort for him and all the other favored women of the harem scowled and looked at hers as if she was an ugly hag. She knew her duty, to be taken for pleasure, as a play toy of men.

He was the first Frenchmen she saw and from sneaked glances and gossip of the other women; she gradually came to know the genius as a well-known figure in Persia, a legend to become. Yet she would not have wanted to bed him. All her life, she had grown up in the harems, just an inch or so higher than the slaves but still higher, high enough that she thought she was past all that. She was educated and preparing to become a wife of nobility, and now. She was taken away from the sanctuary of the harem and in the living quarters of a man whose name she did not even know. So she lost not only her virginity but the harem. Who was she now? Either way, she would die a slow, starving hunger that ate at you inside out or a quick execution in front of scowling women who whispered their crude jokes quietly. This was nothing to be ashamed of; the khanum herself had asked her of the favor to entertain our lovely guest, suffering of _ennui_. So the very night the Frenchmen came in, she was doing something she knew not she was capable of. Waiting on his bed, he entered, almost ignoring her all together and all the air was cut off. He demanded power, his aura was simply ineffable, and with a turn of his head, hands grasping at the frames of the wooden bed, his eyes met hers. She did not know then, if she had gasped out loud or not but those yellow eyes hidden behind a white blank mask. His eyes were sad; the subtlety was crushing on her. She forgot for just a moment, what _she_ had lazily drawled out._ Let him do as he pleases, no doubt he should excel, and do I make myself clear? Good, then if you should fail a task simple as this, then there really is no point of living for you._ In that half a minute that seemed to last an eternity, he looked away, and Amira sat obediently like a child waiting to be scolded.

"How old are you?" His voice was gravelly, like a sagacious old man, and then at the same time, alluring and masculine.

"Fifteen, monsieur," The word rolled off her tongue awkwardly, she as added in an unnecessary curtsy.

"I am Erik to you only," He sighed, "Please, no formalities, not if you will accept me,"

"Accept you?" His Persian was too proper, a tell-tale sign for anyone to be convinced he was not truly Persian. Magician he may be, but did he not understand why she was there. The fear began swarming around her when all the other concubines and odalisques laughed harshly at her cruel fate, to be raped by a monster, a foreigner as well. The sharp cackles made her shiver, once again angry for having such a name. Fortunate. Why her of all the others? She was most certainly not the prettiest, at least she thought, or the cleverest. Most ultimately, she saw herself a coward, never knowing how her life would be, not within these walls of the shah. Her green eyes hid behind their lids, frightened to see her new master.

"Show me your face," He walked towards her, his elongated fingers, cold as ice despite the hot weather of Persia, grasping her cheeks tenderly. The girl trembled, whispering her reply, holding back her tears. She could see his hands, pale white against her tan complexion, yet his hands provided no friction among her face, the very face that was smoothed by lotions. Her first accusation, wrong. Trembling, she lifted the veil off her face to see him clearly for the first time. He looked at her revoltingly, and then at his hands, "I cannot touch you,"

Amira kept her sadness muted; she was too ugly for even a deformed beast to love? Erik busily studied her in keen interest, she was not different or at least, he could not have told the difference between all the women who walked past him in this wicked country but to take something away from her, it burned like desire, his needs. The way she bit on her lower lip, her audible breath, and those eyes staring at her past her curly, dark hair covering her bare shoulders. At fifteen, she was beautiful to him, but knowing that she was here by force disgusted him, he imagined her underneath those alluring clothes. He could already imagine the hidden delights in store. With impulsive glances, he paced back and forth in the room until she found the courage to be shed of her clothing. He stood, rapid breathes accompanying fervent eyes. There stood the fifteen year old, illuminated only by the setting sun. And with the best of her ability, she huskily murmured, "Come, master,"

He then covered his eyes, such a movement to hide his embarrassment. Allah! The thing she dreaded the most now became so bothersome, a blow to her confidence. Standing with her hands placed around her waist, he could not avoid seeing her, the way her breasts-No! This was below him! To take away this teenager's dignity for reasons not nearly as desirable as love, it was too overwhelming. The choice was not his to make. Yet somehow, when she grasped his arm, the shock electrocuted him, her creamy soft palms over the sleeves of his suit, staring at him with those gigantic eyes. And then he started taking off his clothes as the sun darkened. Goddamn, he thought, one night only with this girl and he would have to let her loose anyway. The thinness made Amira shudder, she had never seen a man naked before her and standing just as he was, she shivered with fear. His mask remained on his face and she was glad for that, and then they found themselves on the bed.

The very bed Amira woke up in. She glanced around, closing her eyes to remember last night, the sores she felt all over and then, with a sigh, she broke down crying.

**A/N New phantom story! I absolutely do love those Erik and persian chick fanfics! Had this all written out but I was not going to start until the New Year (Happy 2011!) but can't wait now! So thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Monsieur Erik?" Her foot made creaking noises as she explored the room hesitantly, her voice quiet, "Monsieur?"

Every creak she made was audible. Every thump she felt in her chest made her all the more vulnerable. After fumbling into her clothing, slipping in the soft fabric and properly veiled, had she began her trek to find him. Now that she had done her duty, she had to leave. She simply had to! No one had ever told her what she had to do the next morning, especially when he was not there to dismiss her. Amira could imagine the sneering women who would find crude jokes to occupy their time and hers and she was angered more than anything. Yet realization had set in that she would forever be a servant only even to the concubines, and that she was no longer pure because of _him_. Her mind did not get angry at the thought of it, though, somehow she was frustrated at the task but felt none toward the man who took it from her and she shivered with thoughts of the previous night, of her unashamed tears this morning. Was it even a man who had done the deed, the fifteen year old odalisque had wondered, her thoughts muddled. She reached toward the door, frightened, and whispered a farewell and was ready to slip out. She was not ready to see his face again, to see that blank mask and remember what had happened between them. And so she quietly slipped out the door.

"Amira," His voice was caressing, soft, and she suddenly jolted, the door slamming behind her as she whirled around as if she had done something wrong.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry," She started to blabber, her voice picking up in pace and rising to a squeak. There he was standing before her at the door, decidedly embarrassed, unwilling to look at her anywhere but intently into her green eyes.

"I should be the one to apologize for such boisterous conduct last night," He winced, and backed away from her, "Did you have a good night's sleep?" He added awkwardly, as an afterthought for a conversation they both were better without.

"Yes, Monsieur, very well" She had started to begin a compliment, something to boost his pride even more, as she began to bat her eyelashes. For an impulsive moment, she felt her stomach flutter when he leaned forward for the door. No, he would not ask for anymore, surely he would not! Amira's palms began to sweat as she fidgeted with them and he raised a bag, and began in a strained voice, "I went out to the markets and have bought some breakfast," He wavered, then continued, "For you."

"You did not need to," She bit her lip and stared intently before she revealed any insecure thoughts that conflicted with that image of confidence she attempted to portray.

"Please," He ushered toward the door and she found herself succumbing and again, she played the role and spoke in a breathless voice.

"Yes, as you wish, Monsieur," The word had rolled off her tongue in a way she thought impossible and she followed him into his room. He began to take off his coat, unnecessary in battles against the cold for it was sweltering to Amira. Every time his sad eyes met hers, as if genuinely and insatiably curious and thoughtful of the teenage girl, she found it hard to look away but she did nonetheless, as she did the very moment he stood there and stared with an expression that a child would give its mother for milk, eyes open. She rushed to his side and he had managed to treat her in such a European fashion yet they had not touched. Partially, she was annoyed at his lack of contact but as he took out the noon o paneer, lavash bread with cheese, and poured the sweet milk, she had forgotten just how hungry she was, it had been nearly two full days that she had not eaten. She eyed the sabzhi in its little containers and she noticed Erik's fingers, so delicate and abnormally long. Her eyes followed the ceremonious event of his serving of food and she felt like a serpent, ready to swallow the food in a single gulp. A few moments had past and she found herself savoring the hot bread and the feel of the fresh milk, its distinct flavor, refreshing her thirst, could feel its coolness slivering down her throat. Both were silent, Erik taking few nibbles here and there, uncomfortably fidgeting with his hands and watching her eat. Here and there, they would talk, but like two strangers passing time before going their separate ways rather than two who had spent a night with each other. Then suddenly, he took her hand, and with full intention, told her, "I do not know how to treat a woman, Amira. Last night. That was my first time as well,"  
She stuffed the last of the bread into her mouth with discomfort. His purpose with telling her that sensitive piece of information confused her, for it was a degradation of his own pride and unnecessary in the course of this breakfast. Was he simply here to gloat?

"What I meant is that, I didn't mean for that to happen to you," Erik gritted through his teeth bitterly, "You are beautiful, did anyone ever tell you so much as that? You don't goddamn deserve this, you don't deserve me!" He growled out the last bit with much hatred of himself, frightening her with his tone.

"Master," Her voice was as sedated as possible, but he only looked at her as if he would hit her if she spoke another word.

"Quit your acts! If there's a God in a heaven, I'm no master of yours!" His voice quivered, controlling his anger, "I told them I would not accept but…" he started to mumble and Amira was more scared of his tactful remarks than his face. She had, after all, seen him in his most vulnerable moment, "Never in my life!" He started to laugh maniacally, "Had I ever received a gift as this! Never in twenty one years!"

Strangely enough, all she retrieved from his words was the fact he was only twenty one years old, so old beyond his years and yet, only a few years older than herself. Somehow, she understood there was something not beyond her imagination about him and so when he began his next line, had she gasped.

"You were a gift, to be mine forever, but if you want," He sighed as if he was admiring her and he did admire her. He admired her for what she had been willing to do and had fallen more in lust with the sight of a woman and his desires had grown immensely. His yellow eyes were dancing from side to side before he grudgingly barked "Go,"

He had expected her to run for the door and when she did not budge in the few seconds that had passed; he repeated his words with an emphasis on each word.

"Erik," she tried, instead of Monsieur, voice steady, "Why was I sent to you?"

Something had told her this would not be the last time she would see this masked man. She thought of what hid under that mask he wore, she thought what secrets had this man kept, what he was capable of! Almost in awe, she slowly took off her veil, and with her lips slightly parted from an instinctive pattern of breathing, and she did not even know that sense of delight that filled her when she dared to look at him so clearly for once and so calmly as well. So now she had discovered, she was never intended to return to the harem. All those times, she had thought those women who did not obey had died some gruesome death but she now realized that perhaps half of them suffered a fate worse than that, to be married to some abusive man they did not love. That was a simple reason she had never saw them again! That was the fact that she could not escape, a living reality, and she blinked rapidly in amazement of the impact of his words, all coming to her like a pound of a hammer in her chest. Still, she was entranced, she knew there was no going back and yet she was not eager to head back for she had her reasons, reasons that were idealistic rather than logical, like a balloon blown to its extremity but filled with nothing but air that would slowly escape. Her hope was simply air but she did not budge a muscle after his command.

Suddenly, he could not speak, did not know just how to react. He did not attempt to speak. And there he left her standing there alone, as he rushed out of the room once more.

**A/N Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are amazing; you made my day :) motivated me to write faster! Kisses to you all! Erik still Erik here? Remember he's younger now!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Nadir!" A series of heavy, rapid steps caused the Persian policeman to look up from his morning breakfast, a door slamming, and there stood Erik in front of his table.

"Good morning, Erik," He chewed his food meticulously, and curiously watching Erik walk left and right in front of him.

"Tea?" Nadir asked, dabbing at his beard with a table linen, a twinkle in his eyes. Without a word, Erik turned to glower at him, and collapsed on a chair he angrily pulled out. He groaned loudly, a rare sound anyone had ever heard the magician make. His hands kept sliding out of his black hair, and finally he looked up with a horrorstruck expression underneath that white mask and with hair out of place. Smirking, Nadir poured him some hot tea, and hesitantly began, "How was last night?" Erik's head twitched, his expression quickly transforming from bloodshot to alert.

"Does everyone in the goddamn palace need to know?" He growled, fingers impatiently tapping the table.

"No, I merely ask with the concern of a friend," Nadir pushed the cup toward him slowly, "But unfortunately everyone shall be sticking their noses in on this."

Erik silently took the tea and for a sudden, looked grudgingly at his friend. For nearly these three years he had taken his home in the Shah's palace, Nadir Khan was a terrific friend, and he began, "How's Reza?" Already ready to leap out of his seat, Nadir took his arm. He was mainly embarrassed to discuss his own issues.

"Erik, he just took some medicines," Nadir looked strained, merely thinking of his only son's welfare. He did not need to mention how long the nights were when Reza could not fall asleep yet was too tired to fight against his own body.

"I just want to look at him!" Erik looked firmly at the Daroga and rose to his feet in opposition to his hushed pleadings. He headed to the bedroom he so often visited and at the foot of the door, he stood still, watching Reza breathing heavily and then a tiny voice protruded, "Uncle Erik?"

A wave of guilt washed over Erik, he must have woken him up. He was at his side before he knew it, on his knees, ready to obey the child as if he was his personal servant and he was a king.

"It hurts," He could only weakly fumble out, eyes squinting close, and Erik brushed through his hair with his hand, the feel of that soft black hair bristling through his palms.

"I know it does," His lips pressed together grimly, "I'm sorry Reza, I thought you were sleeping,"

"Where's my father?" He shook his head, once, twice. Then he twitched compulsively and Erik held him tighter. Always welcome, that's how Reza made him feel, he never asked why he would be there and he always somehow knew not to interrupt a serious moment between Erik and his father. Erik could tell the young boy had woken up because of him. Then those eyes looked up into his, large and curious, with a hunger to see so much of the world. Like _hers_. He quickly rid his mind of the thought. A soft story escaped his mouth, a jumble of words and nonsense, that had Reza laughing faintly, and then, he was asleep. The peacefulness he loved to see in Reza calmed Erik, to know he was in a world of dreams.

He slipped out of the dark room, taking a second look at Reza, and found the Daroga fumbling with his fingers outside.

"Sometimes I pray to Allah that it won't be the last time I'll see my son," Nadir shook his head sadly, sitting down in his chair after they wandered back into the Nadir's work table, "He falls asleep so quickly whenever you're here,"

"I don't make him fall asleep," He shook his head, "But Nadir,"

"What happened last night, Erik?" He questioned.

"I need to talk to you about that," His face was in a grimace, hair disheveled. He heaved a huge breath.

"I think I love her!" His words escaped his lips rapidly.

"What?" Nadir Khan leaned in.

"Never mind that! I'm not sure how I feel!" Erik gasped vehemently. Nadir's expression urged him to continue.

"Nadir, I don't know! God, I memorized her face completely, I can't stop thinking about her," Faintly, he could see those hurt eyes following him as he stormed out the room.

To his disappointment, he only laughed.

"Erik! My friend! Just forget about it!" Nadir patted his shoulder softly, but enough for Erik to feel as though it was shaking his entire body.

"We just…" He gave a little shiver before he continued, "Shared something_ sacred_ between man and woman,"

"Erik, surely you have had a prostitute before," His voice was joking, as if he were certain he had. But when silence was Erik's answer, he bit his lip, fondling his lengthy beard.

"So last night, I felt_ connected_ to her and that there was a bond between us," Erik's voice began to trail off, in thought of his frustrated ways to explain.

"Yes, Erik, it's normal," Nadir nodded, "She's a pretty girl"

Erik glared at his friend, "She's not only_ just_ a pretty girl," His anger was starting to boil at every casual answer Nadir had to his burning questions.

"I just need a little time to think this out," His face was in his palms, "I cannot believe I allowed myself to do that," His look was one of utter disgust, with himself, with the concepts of sexual intercourse itself, "It's devilishly wrong!"

Nadir raised his eyebrows.

"Take me seriously, you fool!" He slammed the empty cup of tea he was playing with onto the table, the sound shattering to hear.

"What is there to be serious about? You have blown this out of proportions! There are plenty of other women out there," Nadir trailed off, his eyes straying to Reza's room, as Erik bit his lips with exasperation. Obviously, Nadir could not help much with his own son worsening by the second! Yet, the Daroga would never reveal that, he still took on his duties wonderfully, a wonderful officer, Erik thought, and yet it is the poor ones who has to suffer, the ones who never asked for anything in return. Like Amira. Cursing himself for thinking of her once more, he distinguished that his mind could not cease to think of her. Of the sight of her, of what she was capable of…Without a doubt, he knew. He knew that he loved her already, loved her as much as he hated his mother.

**A/N Howdy there! I'm thanking all you guys for reading and hopefully you get the last sentence…Erik's not sure! Yet, I want this love to evolve and all…Have a terrific day!**


	4. Chapter 4

She tried not to pry but really could not resist. The pages of unidentifiable French characters ravishingly filling the thick novels on his desk to the little automatons lying around performing their tasks. Her fingers reluctantly drew back when she felt too much in contact with everything. So this was her prison. He had, once again, left without any direction and Amira strangely did not feel like crying anymore, a certain numbness filling her where it had once been fear. She flounced about the room like a bird, fluttering from location to another. Finally, she eased herself on the chair facing the window. She could feel her face submitting to the heat of the sun coming in through the window and yet, she could only sit there, looking forward, biting down on her lip. Her position was one that she would be scorned for, but one was there to see her with her feet tucked in, hair framing her face in a zealous mess. A bell had chimed, signaling one of their several prayers.

Salah.

Ever since she was a little girl, she had been trained to pray, five times a day, and yet could she now? She looked at herself in her simple white dress, turned to see the tousled bed sheets, turned to see herself in such an unfamiliar environment. She had no right to pray to Allah in this condition. She had no will to pray. But as the silence of prayer filled her ear, she could not stop the tears from filling her eyes as she threw herself on the floor, purely instinct to which direction to pray to, and pressed her face to the ground, sobbing out the words. The words sounded condemning in her ears, her fierce whispers.

A creak of a door, a few footsteps, but she remained prostrated on the floor. And a bell rang again, she turned around without thinking and there sat the Frenchman, solemnly eying her, his long fingers arched over his knees.

She nodded to him in acknowledgement, green eyes penetrating him carelessly in its own intense subtlety. He stood up, urged her to get off the floor. And they stood up both at once, and with his hands behind his back, in his suit and her in her simple white garment of a dress. Her chin tilted upwards, puffing her chest up and down, and he looked down at her, despite his usual prudeness in regards to women, allowed himself to see these women usually covered up in Persia but where in France are tightened to an almost loathing way for him. He was a good few inches taller than her, and he was astonished at this amazement he still held at the way a fifteen year old's body lured him so and she as well, believing she herself had had an astounding night in the arms of a ghost, unrelenting and indifferent.

"Amira," He enunciated.

"Monsieur," She replied briefly. She wanted to ask him many questions, it was against what she was allowed.

"I'm going to do something, you have to know," Erik staggered to continue, "Oh, I should have shown myself earlier!"

He talked as if he had some disease, she knew he did not, he was too inhuman, too fascinating to be a man like the ones she caught glimpses of down the markets with their black eyes, full beards, and hidden primitiveness. She quickly shook off these thoughts, he was not a man to be proud of, he was a sad soul, only like a friend's dying grandfather. He could be a gentleman but she herself would not have known that. And he could be like the murderous man who took regards to courtesy and she would not have known that either. Before she knew it, his hands were at his face. His hands were shaking against the ivory of the mask he wore. For a moment, she forgot that his expressive face was not his face, an illusion to a blinded girl. She blinked several times, her mind not pulling together that he did indeed wear that mask for a reason. Those languid fingers fidgeted with the workings of the mask, before he looked down, lips bitten down upon on both their anxious faces. Amira normally would not regard such things with the flutters in her stomach but now this moment caused two impervious persons to gasp for air. And he looked up, without the mask. Amira shuddered, her voice lost and dry. Her voice had lost its instinct to say much, but suddenly her screams came, focused, as she held on to the back of the wooden chair. She inched back as he sadly moved toward her. Thinking back on the night before, she could not place two and two together, to this horrid face to his desperate kisses.

"I'm so sorry!" She shook her head, fingers reaching to her lips, her head light to discover the predator of her virginity. It was horrifying to see those yellow eyes sunken in, in what? In nothing that was sufficient to call a face, his nose was not there, her own tickled at its very tip. His cheeks were red and scarred, twitching against those flickering yellow eyes. She was not repulsed; she was not surprised by the many surprises life was going to force to her. Somehow she knew their fates were tied together tighter than possible to be undone, something would keep her at his side and she was repulsed by that.

She tried to speak but could only cough out, blinking tears, and she turned away. She could not look at that face anymore. What had happened to give man such features, Allah, he could not be human!

"Amira, sit down," He was fearful she would faint, that she would run from him, kill herself. He had not shown his face in so long. Her head whipped to the left, eyes closing tightly as she floated down unto the wooden chair, Amira,"

His voice was shaky, tearful, so resonant in the room. Her chest heaved from breaths, tears silently trailing down her face, her throat constricted wanting to create some sound. He kneeled on the floor, she had no clue what was happening, her face stubbornly turned from his face.

"I promise I will make this up to you, leave me if you want," He tried to sound unmoved, "But know I will be right there, offering my assistance to anything you may need, I just wanted to show you, please. Please! Oh Amira, I am no monster and I want you to know that, Amira, I was wrong to do what I did, but God as my witness, we'll both believe that it was an act of love. I tell myself that, I don't want to say that it wasn't anything but that, Amira, Forgive me, I do not know what I'm saying,"

He was talking like a madman! Suddenly, he did not want to let go of her, he strived to show her he was not as horrid as he looked.

Still on the floor, he staggered over closer to the seated girl. He took her leg, pulling it straight so it laid perpendicularly against his own leg, her tiny foot fidgeting in response. Tracing her leg like a sword, she gasped at his finger against her bare leg and he shivered at his own bravery, his knowledge she was not covered in stockings, in crinolines, that her smooth legs were bare. He looked up at her face, still turned, and down at the silhouette of her leg against his. His fingers traveled until it reached her knee, her dress pushed to the side, and he leaned down with tearful gasps.

He pressed his lips against her foot, grasping it softly, kissing the curve, the toes, and then traveled up her legs, his lips precociously pausing for stops along against the dark skin.

Instead of the expected message to stop, Amira could not say anything other than "My feet…"

"Are pure as perfect can be," He whispered, his face still pushed against her leg. So he did understand customs, he knew she was supposed to wash her foot before her five daily prayers and she had not. That hurt her even further, that face she refused to look at etched into her mind.

"This is unfair; you cannot assume me to, to expect you to look like that!" She sobbed out more tears, stricken by her own brazen behavior toward her master.

"I don't, I don't, _ma amor_," The French had sneaked out of him involuntarily in his desperation and Amira caught the fluidity of the foreign tongue and shivered, "Please look at me," _and tell me I'm not a monster._

Suddenly he was not the twenty one year he was, he was that little boy pleading his mother for a kiss, the boy pleading for safety in a gypsy caravan. She opened one eye, and taking a deep breath, turned to face him on the floor, his beautiful head of hair the only sight she had of him. Leaning down, she kissed him on the head; the zenith point of the man who swooped to his knees to kiss the feet of a lowly odalisque, ashamed that was all she could give him.

**A/N: No excuse, I am angry at myself for not updating in so long, and there should be no excuse! Sorry its so late! Thanks for reading, have a great Valentine's Day! Hahah, Love!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Just promise me one thing," She let her hair fall into her face, arms crossed, "Don't wear that mask around me please, I want to, "She heaved a big breath, "I want to get used to your face,"

"No." He shook his head, "You won't see me anymore, just leave,"

And this sweet freedom she yearned for crashed with a realization she had nowhere to go to. She kept mum about the issue for many days to come.

It had been a couple of lazy days since that morning after and Amira found a home, albeit still quite awkward in Erik's apartment. It was a burden in the morning, when they sat facing each other with nothing more to say other than to pass the bowl of fruit or at night, when Erik set out and did not seem to return long until after she had fallen asleep. His side of the bed Amira now slept in was always smooth, not touched at all, while she curled up laconically on her side. Erik did not stop to express his utter confusion of his current situation nor did any information come to what she was to do. He never woke her up for reasons of his own lust for flesh and she never spoke a word to him again of the confrontation. She could not deny that it was relaxing, the atmosphere was always quiet and if not, filled with the most alluring music she had ever heard in all her fifteen years. He continued to wear his mask and she continued to lounge around on the chairs and observe him, of course, quickly turning to face the window or looking down whenever he looked at her. She tried to stir up the courage to ask him, to try to talk to him, and cursed herself for thinking that in fact, getting into bed with him would be easier than talking to the man himself.

One day the Daroga had come and she scurried to bow while reaching to cover her face. She had almost forgotten the wearing of that veil on her face after days in the proximity of the house. She had no relations to the man, knew him only as companion of Erik and policeman of the palace.

He seemed abashed to see her, vexed in seeing her bare face, now so tired and without care.

"Is Erik here?" The French name sounded much more natural coming from the tongue of the daroga than it did from her own mouth. She shook her head, no; he was not here this morning.

"Oh," His lips formed an o, as he placed his hands at his hip and looked around the room. Why was the girl still here? As a concubine, Erik presumably knew they were not bound by the same laws of marriage; the same girl he so ardently mumbled of would no longer be in his life if he had just rid himself of her. In a heartbeat, she could be sold to another man, one who would not care or was too old to notice she was no longer a virgin, that is. After all, he must have known that after that first night, we are reassured he was in fact, powerful enough to overcome bitter cries of rejection. Yet, looking at Amira, he somehow knew she would cry no tears; there was definitely something about the girl. Surely, Erik had finished his duties with her. Allah! She was young, but had a beauty that was undeniable, "Tell him Nadir Khan had called for him, take care, Amira joon," With a look that feigned empathy to Amira, he stepped out, almost pained by the meeting with her.

And she jolted for a breath, her eyes incredulously fluttering at his endearment to her. It was the first time someone had done something like that and her heart sank with the realization. This term had come from a man of her origin, one who saw her fate horrible enough for pity. Please, please, please, she had prayed, do not let this monster of a man hurt her. She told herself not to judge but she could not, with the rumors she had heard, the curious nature of the man himself. Her heartbeat rose at her skepticism, pounding in her ears. Recalling this as the first time in hours she had talked to a human being, she sulked back into the bed and slowly cried herself to sleep. She awoke to a slamming door and she rushed out of bed with the notions of a little girl who had done a wrong deed and was hiding. What was she possibly hiding from? Surely not that face by now, or even his demands for come what may, she was ripped to shreds by this constant waiting, this constant sitting at the window sills. The patience in her was nothing like the ones that raged whenever some other member of the harem talked of techniques to please a man; the tension was not knowing _anything _at all! At fifteen, she understood nothing that was to come and yet realized she was nothing but an object able to be traded at any time. Her mind could not stop to register the future other than now, other than him standing before her, looking nothing like she had ever thought a man would look like, not that she could remember other than the vague blurriness. She could hear his footsteps and yet, nothing compelled herself to turn around. Biting down on her lip, wishing her tears dried up faster, she folded her arms, still sitting on the bed. His footsteps stopped, she could feel his presence.

"You're awake," His voice was guilty.

Allah, what time was it? When will the hourglass turn itself?

"I'm sorry, I was occupied elsewhere," His voice was strident, resonant. Anger suddenly boiled in Amira, she had thought of running away, of killing herself. All this had crossed her mind but she decided to stay for all the wrong reasons, and she took this to strike back at him. All this time, all this forsaken time he had decided to leave because he couldn't handle this would be understandable but really, what attractions were held by a man whose face was not even a regular man's, whose behavior was so irregular it frightened her?

"Doing what? Fucking the khanum?" The words had escaped her mouth before she had time to think, something hormonal it was. For him, the approaches to her cruel words were merely happened to be hormonal. Amira gasped softly, eyelids closing so fast she could still see specks of light. She had no idea where she even got the idea but it came to her and she leaned forward, her forehead now touching her knees, ready to be struck.

"Look at me," His voice strained, "I said look at me!" So she happened to be a defiant little fiend that was nothing he couldn't handle. To have everyone's assumptions thrown into his face was not one he had expected from Amira, Amira who curled up in balls in bed, tossing and turning and crying in her sleep that he couldn't bear to be near her, and he heaved the fact that yet another woman in his life hated him, blamed him for ruining his life. From his mother to Luciana and now her. Her head turned around, puffing in assumed bravery. He reached forward for her face, so fast she could not react, and his fingers clasped onto her cheeks, cold and sickly against the warm brown of her skin. Amira could only notice that knucklebones protruding out on that hand tightly cupping her face.

"Never ever say that to me again," He spat out, his yellow eyes looking straight into her eyes, the lines of his wrinkled skin making her shiver. For a second, it looked as if he would strike her. She waited but it never happened. With a finality, he let go, retreating to some other part of the small apartment. Things are never going to improve from here; I will die before it will. The words formulated and reasoned in Amira's mind as fresh tears trailed down her face. This was the truth she vowed, and like those chickens in the markets, ready to have their heads cut off, her tears was for a knowledge she realized somewhere along the way, when that sly butcher's hands, full of blood, had picked her and taken her away for a barter she had no part in, clutched her naked and shed her of all dignity she had left, examining her left and right. Suddenly, the tears refused to stop.

**A/N: Amira eh? Hahah, sorry for the foul language, hope you had a good day!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Let's start all over, I apologize for my conduct the last few days," Erik all too quickly drew out, nostrils flaring underneath that mask. He stood at the end of the canopy bed, holding onto the wooden railings. Amira bit her lips, everything would be the same tomorrow, she was certain of that. Nighttime had taken over that dreadful day and had not enough time to remind her that her brazen words were directed to the man whose "hospitality" she was taking in. He sighed, walking toward to his side of the giant bed that suddenly seemed too small.

"May I?" He lifted the thin covers as Amira remained on the other side, at the doorway. With a dry throat, she nodded. He lifted his hand and urged her over, fingers drawing her over, all the more seductive. He went over to her side, took time and actually tucked her in. She didn't struggle as he softly covered her with the blanket. Then he placed himself, sitting at first just at the edge of the bed. A pout unconsciously appeared on her face, her head seemed to sink into the soft pillows.

They sat a few awkward minutes, looking only at each other, and his hands leaped up, caressing her face. It was a new feeling from that deathlike grasp his cold fingers had. This time, the coolness was refreshing, soft to the point where it felt like a tickle. She reached upwards, grasping his hands while still looking at his eyes. Her two hands cupped his one, like a bird that stopped fidgeting in realization it could no longer fly.

"I'm sorry, forgive my itinerant hands. They forget to understand the touch of anything that is not neither paper nor pen," He had somehow leaned in closer, or so it seemed.

"Monsieur, how were these scars acquired," she peeked down to feel the red lines she felt protruding so ostentatiously from the back of his palms. He jerked his hand back quickly.

"My name is Erik and I was quite a vivacious child and my mother…, it's irrelevant now," He gulped, hesitant to say more, not certain of how to say it. He was almost ashamed; it looked, to tell his tale. To Amira, who suddenly realized the man before her was once a boy, she added her input before she could catch herself.

"My mother died giving birth to a stillborn little brother when I was four," Amira flinched. But he only smiled.

"You never knew a mother and so I never knew a father, what a match we are," He was insane! Laughing at such a topic, was he an atheist as much as he was no man?

"No, they blamed me for her death, or at least my father did," Her vague memories of that man was all she had, "So I was sent here, at the age of eight,"

"To be trained to be a whore for emperor," He nodded, a hint of anger in his voice, that she could only turn to look away, "And then I came along," He breathed out, she could feel the heat travel to the back of her neck and sending her shivers.

"You know I don't regret it, you have kinder than most men," She felt like she was complimenting him for her own fear as he erupted in a small chuckle. But it was merely an unconventional truth.

"So it is working, my European courting manners," He mumbled more to himself, the irony was identified by a twinkle in those gold eyes.

"I'm so lost," She whispered, out of the blue. His eyes grew intense again, yellow in the dark room. Yellow like a cat, "Please, monsieur, don't confuse me so. I'm so lost, I have no idea why I was sent here, why I am still here-"

All of a sudden, his lips were her, ravenous and raw. His mouth moved from her left jaw, the sides of her mouth, as her salty tears tasted so punishing in his mouth. She had kissed him back though, relieving him of some guilt and he jolted at her launching into his arms, kissing with so much force it hurt. His arms wrapped around her protectively, warm beneath the blankets just underneath the arch of her back, while hers flopped gracelessly onto his chest. They found themselves, a few minutes later, interwoven in their embrace. She leaned up, her lips ready to be kissed again and he obliged.

"I-"

"Please don't apologize," Another kiss, warm and grateful, not meant in any way to be a phony seductiveness.

His vest slid off on the floor, the studs of the coat had been undone.

There were no words for this sudden hunger, both for different reasons that refused to make sense.

"Tell me more-," Her tears still trailed down, how did she have so many tears in her?

"About what?" He murmured excitedly, breathing in deeply, his nose filled with a wonderful fragrance that was her not some perfume. That sweet warm smell as his cheek was brushed upon by her thick, wavy hair. He was ready to change both their lives, eager now to win her heart given some hope that she was not willing to leave this all behind.

"You," She blinked her eyes, this would be a good start," Talk about you,"

"What about your story?" He asked as a newfound pang was in her heart.

"I don't remember much," She truthfully revealed, she knew there was not much that she considered worthy to be told to such a person.

"What if I said I never felt more of a life than when I first met you," She smiled, satisfied as a sleepwalker would by his words.

"Then I would say you were reading some Persian tales," Her arms limped around his neck.

"I have, but no, my life is dreadfully pitiful but then again, fate is all it is," Her eyes caught his expression as her body moved upwards for a miniscule moment as he took a breath, "I truly want to tell you, I really do," And he did, no one ever stopped to question this but rather, what can you do? They never ask more than that. With abruptness, he began, "I was born in Boscherville, a small village France, in 1831…" And his voice somehow lured her to sleep before the next chapter of his life could begin, the retelling of the day he turned five. His stories were truly stories, not rants, at least not yet, that had amazed her when he had first begun.

"Sleep well tonight," He closed his own eyes, his words reassuring to himself more than to the sleeping girl. "All will be well," He sighed out, his fingers wiping off the dampness on her face.

All will be well.

**A/N: Hey there! Thanks for reading again and what do you think? Have a good day!**


	7. Chapter 7

"How is our gracious guest with his concubine?" Her eyebrows raised, delighted it seemed, like a schoolteacher to give punishment to an especially naughty child. Her finger curved inward into a ball, and then was placed under her chin, "I quite like it when he is so distracted by a whore's pretty face," She laughed, recalling his ruthless methods of assassination the day before, sidetracked and resulting in a long and torturous death simply as quoted, "I forgot he was in the torture chamber."

It did not matter anymore, frankly, she had hardly known the man she sent to death only that she was not of the Qajar family, and that he had somehow created dislike in her against him. Whatever it was, it was more out of boredom rather than punishment.

The servant remained mute for a few moments.

"What's the matter with you? Talk!" She barked out, the fervency in her voice no match to the lazy expression she possessed.

"I didn't hear much this morning so they are probably still sleeping," The slave replied, expression not meeting the khanum.

"I see what about last night?" She carelessly examined the fingernails on her other hand.

"He had entered the room relatively early and then as I listened at the door, I believe I did hear something," He gulped, hesitant of what the Shah's dear mother wanted to hear. An early bell had rung, and she looked up all too suddenly.

"He is late," She snarled, a lioness whose instincts were kicking in. She motioned for the servant to leave the room, and raising one leg above the other so it rested comfortably on the seat, and to anyone, the lounging khanum looked as carefree as one could be, even reading through some of the Arabic literature pieces.

"Grand Mistress of the Splendorous World and Universe," The Daroga of Manzaderan Court addressed himself, bowing deeply on his knees and touching the floor.

"Nadir," She curtly replied, only looking up after finishing her page, her eyes leisurely moving from right to left, "Where is our Erik?"

"Forgive me, Wonderful Song of the Frog's Croak and the Wind's Whispering, I had told the girl yesterday to tell him, he was not home," He still remained on the floor, flinching in the result she decided to whip him.

"And you dared speak to the girl? What was she doing?" She was intrigued by Erik's actions and a small smile appeared on Nadir's face.

"She is very quiet around me, quite obstinate if you ask me," He answered the answer he knew she would want, a wide smile spreading on her face. Erik, get here before the conversation gets further along! Nadir Khan kept thinking the same thing over and over.

"Tell me, Nadir, do you know how Erik is spending his time?" She questioned.

"He divides his time inspecting your gardens, designing The Shah of all Persia's palace, and developing some clever automations for the Khanum's delight," He had scored another point in her favor for both himself and Erik, and added, "He returns to his chambers though and I think we should know why,"

"Excellent then, let us have a nice conversation, shall we?" Nadir could only smile nervously, gulping down and thankful for that beard of his to cover that Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

* * *

Her cheek was pressed down on his chest, creating a delightful pout of her face, that Erik could not stop staring at. He allowed himself to play with her hair but frightfully removed his hands every time she budged. Her arms had draped over him that he did not even want to get out of bed despite judging what hour of the day it was by the sun's formation and by the sound of two prayer bells filling the palace. What did he have to do today anyway? He could just stay here, stay here and think about pathos rather than logos. He looked down at her, sleeping so peacefully, and he could not help but whisper out her name. The pain he had for not moving in such a long period was no effect on his elation. That numbing shock he felt in his arms as "limbs fell asleep" was nothing to that increased pounding in his heart. He was so drowsy one moment, tired of his own feelings. She reminded him of a little puppy but he cringed at telling anyone they reminded him of his deaad pet dog despite it being so logical to him.

"Mmm?" She mumbled out incoherently, eyelids on the brink of opening to reveal those splendid green eyes.

For a moment, Erik panicked. How could he believe this would happen? How foolish! As she appeared to awake, he only thought of how unrealistic it was, no! Those thoughts are horrible, he wanted to cry out.

"Monsieur Erik?" He smirked; she was improving with the transition from Monsieur to Erik.

"I'm here," His voice was as soft as possible.

The words registered in her mind and she jolted up so fast her eyes saw those black clouds, so fast it was before even Erik could respond. Is Erik here? A male voice kept repeating that in her mind and then she recollected her encounter with Nadir Khan the day before.

"Monsieur, the Daroga has asked to see you as soon as possible!" The way she said it, so many assumptions flew through his head but the primary one was in his head. Reza. Smoothing the dress shirt he had slept in, he threw on his jacket, fidgeting with the buttons, ready to leap out the door as Amira whimpered in the bed, "I'm so sorry, I simply forgot." She sat crouched, her bare legs out from hiding underneath the sheets. With a worried glance, he panicked again. How would he deal with her in hysterics? I thought everything was fine! And Reza, I must see him! Without thinking, he leaned toward her and pecked her on the cheek before rushing out the door, leaving Amira reaching for her face. Confused at what had happened, she placed her palm over her cheek and allowed herself a giggle.

**A/N: Another chapter! It's been a happy relaxful week hasn't it? So what you think !**


	8. Chapter 8

Just like Sasha, he could not get rid of that thought as he pounded down the halls, ignoring the guards whose eyes followed him. Why did I kiss her? The act was so involuntarily and in his heart, he only saw his mother's face, then Marie's, then Luciana's. But somehow, he understood she would not flinch in disgust. And just like Sasha, she only accepted him because she didn't understand any better, had no comparison to a better…master. His whole body seemed to swell whenever their lips had touched though, but thinking back on that feeble attempt of a conversation, he knew better. It was nothing but the result of neglect and fear. Love! It was never love, you fool. Around him, the subjects of the palace scurried where they once strolled. His head hurt too much. He reached into his pockets to find that familiar vial. Of course, it had been days, long and confusing hours. It was not there.

Rushing to the room, he was stopped by his friend's voice calling from behind.

"Erik! Erik!" His voice was decent of a police officer's, he thought, demanding and harsh. He rarely heard this tone in the enclosed chambers of his room though, not near Reza.

"Is Reza all right?" He reached forth and grabbed his shoulders, biting down his lips as Nadir tilted his head in confusion.

"Reza? He's, well I mean, he is—"He looked down, the constant reminder of his son's condition never ceased to worry him, "the same, the same,"

"I came as fast as I could," He muttered, taking his hands off but resulting to pacing back and forth.

"What's the matter?" If he had predicted something, then Nadir would have no trouble in believing him.

"You called for me, didn't you?" He was still pacing.

"Oh!" Nadir burst out laughing, his voice ricocheting off the corridors, "Erik, why don't we go in?"

"I thought I told that girl to find me whenever you get the chance but much too seduced?" Silently, he followed Nadir, who had so quickly gone from alert to amusement, into the room.

"Nadir, I—"If a phantom could blush under that white mask, Nadir could sworn he recognized the reddening of his friend's cheek.

"Well, Erik, I almost got in a whole lot of trouble," He smirked, a wave of subtle annoyance in his voice.

"Yes I know, Nadir," He growled out.

"She wanted to announce something, not to my ears but to yours," He started, "We discussed some cursory details, ones to occupy her mind,"

"So I should go," He raised his eyebrows, "to her?"

"If you wish, but I suggest tomorrow would be a better choice," Nadir voiced his opinions, "That is all,"

"Well, I'll be going," Erik meant, somewhat, I would much rather stay.

"Yes, and one more suggestion," He had already started into the other rooms, "take the poor girl outside for some air," He was gone before the uncomfortable expression sank on his friend's face.

Erik feebly found himself wandering down the corridors, the air around him slightly different. He felt too much to simply just wander around but his mind was too distracted to do anything but. Yes, he had formulated in his mind, he would take Amira out for a walk.

He entered his own room hesitantly.

"Amira?" The word disappeared by a syllable and he attempted another technique, what else could she be called? He was relieved as she fluttered by, trying to hide the sudden glow in her eyes. Her whole self had suddenly radiated at the sight of whom she was expecting all this time. She had took time to weave her hair in an intricately done braid not even Erik could imagine doing, his fingers lacing through her thick hair, the strands instinctively rolling around the tips of his finger. Just what she needed was…

"Come with me," His eyebrows lowered as his eyes focused on her.

A chest full of dresses, western ones and Persian ones. In shades of green, in shades of mahogany.

"They are all yours," He choked out, tilting his head for her to look through the chest. She realized her failure to question where these dresses had come from and his large gifts to her. The fifteen year old in her was too ignorant other than to state the facts in her head, how jealous the other women in the harem would be. But his voice brought her back to reality. Jealous of what? Jealous of eyes and hands prying about her ever naked body to find the perfect one to be raped by a stranger? She shivered with recollection of the physicians cupping her breasts in the hands, deriving more pleasure than purpose and of the gossiping women who had waxed her body with a knowing smirk. Envy directed at nothing but an unusual outsider. She knew she would not forget so easily despite how much she wanted to.

But he is so kind! She wanted to shout.

So alluring.

"Come on a walk with me, please?" That voice was just the right pitch, not maliciously low or as high as the devilish boys, just wickedly pleasing. In Persian, he spoke to her but she gasped every time he did, it shocked her every time. One day, she decided impulsively, she wanted to learn to babble in French.

Those words confirmed her thoughts and so she turned. What was stopping her now except some morals that were already corrupted from the start? She deserved to enjoy herself, granted she wasn't even condemned to death by now. She had done her job and perhaps he did indeed care.

"Amira?" He flinched at his own voice, calling her name, despising the feeling of need, "Will you?"

She nodded fervently.

"Get dressed then," Erik backed up toward the door, exiting and leaving her in the closet.

At first she eyed the dresses, the fashion of all so intriguing. Decorated with ornate flowers, she pulled up a bright yellow gown. An European dress gown. In the air, particles went flying about, and laying it on the floor; she was reminiscent of a young sailor given the duty of reading the map. She threw the dress over herself, squeezing her hips through an impossibly tiny opening and breathed out as she tugged at the dress with cheeks puffing up and then turned around to see strings coming down, fastenings she noted. The heavy but smooth fabric flowed like a drowned poppy flower on her, as she looked down and hands traveled to the revealing neck line, from the center up to the puffy sleeves. Her own skin was warmly contrasted to the soft yellow and then she caught herself in a dusty looking glass. And laughed.

Allah! She looked like a crazy woman! Like a poor begging woman who wandered about the streets hidden under aprons and aprons of fabric.

"Are you alright?" A knock was heard and she gasped, forgetting time was still relative.

"Yes, monsieur, I'll be done in just one moment!" She tried lifting up the bottom of the heavy skirts and was certain she would drown. This would be difficult. Putting it on, she was certain, took her about ten minutes and taking it off would certainly last longer. How stupid! Some crazy telepathy did exist though, he, suspicious with his thoughts, entered the room, eyes trying to be hidden from the sight of her.

Her head turned, lips bitten down on, her exposed backside in full view.

Erik's expression lit up all too quickly, amusement being one of the prime factors.

"Need help, I assume?" He started toward her as she breathlessly nodded.

His fingers were at the bottom of her back where spine curved inwards, loosening any stays and trying hard to avoid carnal contact. He was an expert at this, she concluded, he had practice. _With other girls. Other French girls._ She shook away the sudden envy.

"My God, your waist is small," his fingers curled up under the yellow fabric, about to either rip the fabric apart to free his damsel in distress or to somehow magically shed it from her body. It was realizing her waist naturally fit into a dress that normally required bodices and corsets that shocked him, but to her, she was tempted to roll her eyes at his oblivion at the utter miserable pain cutting in the her stiff body. The feeling she acquired was numbing, her stomach, flabby as human nature only allows, was unnaturally pushed upon. Her hips felt like they were shoved to the side, barring the dress from being shed easily. She could feel herself trying to suck in her stomach even more just for comfort and to think wearing this all day?

In the meanwhile, he had amused her with anecdotes of dressmakers and wicked witches, and they laughed. They truly laughed together. He then realized that her dress would come loose, that she would stand before him naked once more. She whirled around, whirled around unclothed, that was all he could imagine.

His eyes betrayed all that went well, the whole experience sent shivers to her bones, a sudden sense of deja vu. Amira sensed his sudden silence and turned around as best as she could, with the dress halfway off of her.

"What's wrong?" She softly asked. He shook his head with abruptness, brushing away the thought. Whirling around unclothed? How sick his thoughts were, how awkward it would be.

"No walk this evening, I suppose," He sadly teared his eyes away from her.

"Yes, a walk," Her voice rang out through the room, and he struggled not to kiss her right there and then.

**A/N: Another chapter up! Sorry to you readers but BOTH my computers got a virus for some reason -_-**

**Thanks for reading, you guys are awesome!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Stupidity!" The twenty one year old muttered as he exited the court of the khanum. He fished out the paper, his eyes thinking themselves deceived. Two fervent yellow eyes regarding the khanum's form of silent torture. The guards stood like mute statues all around the court. Judging that sun in the sky, he shook his head. It was barely eight in the morning, she was presumably still asleep. He stuffed the paper into his coat pocket again.

"Bring her here, hmm?" She had raised her eyebrows with delight. She didn't to elaborate. He could feel her intents just with trying to contain that sudden jolt when she was mentioned.

For Amira, there was nothing left for her to do, except sleep. Loss of appetite, loss of control over who she was. Particularly lazy she always felt, lying on their bed. And she supported her head with her hand, absentmindedly playing with her hair. Was this how those wives in those novels she so devoured as a girl spent their days, their husbands off fighting a war or lowering their pants to other girls? Was this that was destined to be all the time? A sick part of it fascinated her. The fifteen year old was impressed by the attention of a man whose face she partly fantasized of, keeping out the grotesque details of that face. She stretched just a bit, like a yawning kitten. It had been weeks since they had met and still the curiousity had not died down yet, every conversation led away from its true purpose, lead her to more questions. Yet, though not much older than her, he seemed to her a world apart, knowing so much and seen so much more. He slid in the bed right next to her.

"The khanum wants to see you," He whispered, they were eye to eye.

"What?" She didn't budge; it was comfort to sit in his arms.

"I'll be right there with you," He had read her mind, "Please get dressed,"

He stood up and smoothed down his western suit and he looked so impeccable in that suit, his hair short enough to uncurl out of his combed down hair, the few dark strands on over his mask, his lips bitten down. He reached down and she swore there was a jolt of electricity when their fingers brushed and she shyly looked away. It was a girlish feeling she had not felt in a while. No more rejecting her fate, she said.

Then it was the two of them walking down the halls in broad daylight. She felt more deserving to rather crawl on the floor. His hand tightened his grip on her arm. For a moment, she wondered what was more ridiculous a sight to the inhabitants of the palace, he walking with her or she with the man. She turned her head once and looked at him, unblinking and staring forward, and returned her solemn expression to the ground, her foot falling into pace with his. Without thinking, her other hand flew to hold on to the sleeves of his jacket, the very arm he immediately linked through hers.

That sense of familiarity had its way of coming back to her. The doors were tall and heavy, she had walked by them several times, had entered perhaps twice in her life.

The guards grinned toothless grins at her, their arms crossed over their chest, chortling out crude remarks to each other. A majestic fanfare was the proper way to go, it seemed, everyone in the room turned their disdained heads over their disdained shoulders like giraffes reaching to obtain their food. Erik yanked her into the room before she could react and she gasped about to stumble. He was too focused on the guards to catch her like she knew he would. She turned and saw the two guards, winking. She shuddered.

"There is the girl, eh?" The khanum stood up, surprisingly graceful and wandering around her. She had never seen her so close and a part of her wanted to look at her. She was pretty, pretty but frightening. Her attitude regarded this as an inspection. Maliciously the shah's mother smiled.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" She stood right in front of her now, her cold fingers cupping her face, "Erik?" She barked, demanding an answer. Amira tried not to wince, her hair falling down the front of her face.

"Too beautiful," The comment astounded her.

"How do you say that in French, Erik?" She drawled out.

He swallowed, darted his eyes away from the fifteen year old odalisque.

"_Joli, beau, etonnant,"_ He listed out.

Amira gasped at his voice, switching from Persian to French, a comforting tongue to him.

Returning her gaze back to the khanum, she noticed the smirk on her face.

"Let me tell you, in a year or less, he'll be begging for another one. Men. I'd like a challenge." She breathed out like a lioness ready to feast, "I would like to see how long you will last, I want to see him kill you slowly in that torture chamber by the end of that month,"

"No doubt she is already suffocating to death in the chambers, My Grand Mistress!" A timid voice rang out, ending in self-instructed giggles.

"Shut up!" The khanum snarled, her nose flaring, as she turned to her private secretary doing some arithmetic in the corner.

"So why were you chosen for him?" She whipped her head back to her, an act of innocence danced on her face, she pranced around saying what she felt necessary to say and at the end of a couple minutes, she sat back on her seat and looked only at Amira. Well, why don't you show us all?

In the side Erik cleared his throat, a strained expression on his face.

"Well, well, no one asked you if you could share, Erik," The khanum growled, deviously tugging at Amira's hair.

"Amira?" Her smile spoke what she didn't have to say: strip.

"Amira," Erik lowered his gaze, angry eyes authoritatively scanning the room. In a soundless war, he had spoken his words to the khanum, bitterness against her intents to shame her even further.

Dissatisfied, the khanum saw this as one thing only, a call for a battle for her to be conquered in her boredom, disgust filled her words "Leave my presence before I have the both of your heads cut off," In more silence, they wandered back. The door opened with a creak, they walked in. Door closed.

"Monsieur," The words whimpered out like mice out of the gutters.

"Come here," his voice was a choking cry, soft only for her to hear and she leaped into his caressing arms, running in her bare feet. She buried herself so she only saw the darkness of his suit, her arms around his waist unwilling to be released. It had been long weeks since he experienced pleasure beyond his imaginations; he needed so badly at that moment to suffice his needs, to be reminded of it. Her sleeves slid down her soft shoulders, the sight of skin against the green fabric of the dress she adorned, "I saw it in her eyes, I saw it." She didn't even question his words, incoherent in her first breath of air from the meeting.

He kissed her on the top of her head, and nothing held him back "Amira, I want you."

Outside, they could hear the early morning sounds of birds, the sounds of sunlight hitting pavement, a creation of perspiration. Their faces met, his kisses demanding, boisterously bold and full of craving. His hands were at the back of her head, hair escaping between his fingers, her hands grabbing at his neck, his jaw, his face. Somehow he found a chair and he sat down, pulling Amira into his lap, taking her from under her arms as he tilted his head back to receive her indulgent kisses.

"Do you-?" He croaked out, lips breathing out hot air into her ear.

"I want you," She wasn't lying to anyone this time, a sudden impulsive need drove her to her quick determination. Driven by her words, he only pulled her closer and she wrapped her legs around his waist, foolish she felt like an awkward clumsy girl but apparent passion seized him. He almost cried with delight.

**A/N: Yea...Happy Birthday to you, this is part 1 ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

"Monsieur," Her voice surprised him, awakening him with a jolt, her hand under her face against the pillow. He blinked his eyes once, twice. He jumped out of the bed, turning his back to her, pulling up his trousers, "No, come back,"

She reached for his arm, and he yielded, sliding down unto the seat of the bed, his white mask so deceivingly frightening in the darkness, "What time is it?"

"It's around eight, we slept through the whole afternoon," He muttered, still buckling up his pants. Now what would happen the whole night was the issue. Contemplating this, Amira sat up pulling the blankets up around her shoulders, her hair cascading down in a mess. He struggled not to touch that hair.

Her head turned to his face, only looking at her. He spoke first, a blurted out apology.

"Please do not," Her only question was how long she would remain in this state of oblivion, before he decided to be ridden of her.

"This isn't fair," He grumbled, a child unsatisfied with his toy horse, "I don't even understand, how any God likes to play with me in this way, Amira, I'm enchanted by you,"

And the leap of air entered her breath, like the effects of mint in her throat.

"Someone amazes me so much about you, your face, your body, and God, I know I'm just a goddamn boy drawn to the first woman who doesn't push me away, but how twisted, isn't it?" His voice increased in rapidity, "I never thought I could do that to you, you've done nothing to deserve this—this torture and yet you play along, you play along to my dreadful demands but I do not want to keep you this way, to be degraded and raped, over and over, without a voice. It angers me so much and yet I cannot stop from being next to you, I'm drawn to you, I want to know you as you are, damn this world, I'm talking too much, oh Amira, Amira, " He blubbered out, his hands muffling his voice as it slid over his face.

"Monsieur-"

"Call me by my name, damn it!" He roared.

"I understand, Erik," Her own confidence filled the silence in the room, "I understand everything,"

"You cannot possibly see it from my eyes, "His comment made him wince in fear she took it wrongly, "I do not even know what I mean."

She searched and then took his hand and the feeling of her hand on his, flesh upon flesh.

"It shocks me so much, I barely know who you are but I cannot deny you anything, I am so happy when you are," The words did not sound like it came from her. Happy was not the word though, it was much more than that, something dizzying.

"Amira," His other hand raised one of hers, raised it to his lips to which he pressed it unto. In the dark room, she eyed him, his wiry build, the arch of his collar bone and the belly button that was rising up and down as he breathed.

"Will you ever show me your face?" She blurted out the question. Boy, he never thought he could get shocked so easily in one day.

"I have," His indistinctive tone assured her he was as nervous as she was, every word they asked each other was another checker piece forward only it wasn't as fun as it would be otherwise if they were only a gentleman and a lady at those European balls.

"Again, I want to know who you really are,"

"You know my name," He tried to reason.

"As you know mine, but," Frustrated, she bit her lip.

"Trust me," He might have just mouthed it out, being barely audible. Trusting him was easy; his voice pleaded it, his soft grasp on her yearned for it. She could not forget one of the things the khanum had said to her only hours before, "Be careful who you trust, he could be a monster, a reincarnation of Ahriman himself."

Meekly, she nodded, and he emitted a large sigh. Sitting up from the bed, he slid back on his collared shirt, walking past the sprawled out bits of clothing on the floor. He came back eventually, a glass of water and some bread in his hands.

"Thank you," She uttered out.

Sitting up she crossed her legs. That felt wrong. She closed her legs and sat up while wrapping the blanket tighter around her body.

"Now what?" He murmured eyes only on her. She could only shrug.

They lay in bed across each other, her arms crossed over her own body, his back turned to her. It was impossible to sleep. She placed one foot out of the blankets, then the other, both placed on the cold floor. Holding on to the poles of the canopy bed, she found her way to his side and she sank to the ground, just high enough to be face to face with his pained sleeping face. Her hands reached for the mask, ran through his hair to find any strings, and pulled it slowly from his face. Every fidget he made created a sudden jolt of butterflies in her stomach but it was only when she had pulled it halfway off his face the light next to him flew open and he stared at her, a mixture of anger and betrayal on his face.

"Why?" He grasped one hand around her neck, tightening and loosening the fingers around her neck.

"I'm sorry, monsieur!" She bawled, her tears falling quickly on the back of his hands. He nearly fell out of the bed, one hand over his face and his released hand reaching for his white mask as she sat, weeping.

"I'm so sorry," She repeated with a wail.

Fumbling, he placed the mask back on his face and stomped away to the caverns of his domain.

**A/N: Hey there...Hope you had a good day there, better than mine at least, and um...enjoy!**

** "Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets." Arthur Miller**


	11. Chapter 11

Her breath was erratic, she fumbled around the crevices of the room in darkness, numbly holding onto the mask and she pulled out the western style wooden chairs, her hands grabbing the polished wood. And she was certain everything was going so well again, she thought so. But she forgot she could never be his equal. Not ever, merely slave to master. She buried her head on the table, her cries muffled as she bit softly on her arms.

Her head slowly rose, looked at the hand still possessive over his mask and felt disgusted. She let go of the mask, hearing the soft thud of the white mask hitting the table. Just like the harem wives who eyed the eunuchs, eyed how handsome they were and pitied their state of castration. Yet, they could only look, a simple girl's crush, inevitable to reach and hard to bring down. Her eyes squeezed close and she tried to remember his soft hands over her, his violent kisses just hours before. But his face drew a blank as she tried to recall a face, the colors to paint that easel.

He does have a face, her mind defensively threw in.

And this concern is pointless; you should fear your own life.

I don't. I trust him.

Her head was fully off the table, determined, as her fingers curled into a ball. Her toes twitched, suddenly aware at last at the cool floor. Then the bottom of her foot curled over something and confused, she arched down, her hands fumbling aimlessly in the darkness and she collected the culprit of her misperception in her hands. A tiny, oval, dark green container. It felt unnaturally cold in her fingers and she pulled up the stopper of the bottle. Took a sniff. She coughed out.

He was going to poison her! These vials, like the ones she sees walking the markets, sold by the deceiving "medicine women" for cures.

And with tears streaming down her face, she pushed it toward her mouth. Without thought, she regarded this as her final breath and shut her eyes tight as little droplets of the liquid trickled down her throat. The sensation was tiring, her eyes sensed hallucinations as she swallowed down the last of the sip. A irritable pounding filled her head. She forgot all reason as her chest heaved up and down as she felt herself sliding off the wooden chair, letting out cries of incoherent pain. Her head was pounding and seemed to match the beats of her heart. Breathing hard, she felt herself blacking out, blacking out before two arms held her close to something more than warmth and a fast whisper that sounded vaguely unfamiliar, and definitely not in Persian.

"_fille stupide, qu'est-ce que vous pensiez?"_

Erik had whispered so in his native French as he raced to find her on the ground. He had assumed her sulking around but had not expected such a reaction. He never could predict what would happen next.

The girl was delirious. Erik was a bit embarrassed at her behavior, random spouts of mumbling and rolling around. Did he act like this when he was on morphine? He felt her sweating onto the lapels of his jacket, her eyes squeezed in apparent pain, and he held her tighter. She would live, that was a tiny amount of morphine. Looking about, he made mental notes to fix up the apartment just a bit, a line of melodies flew into his mind ready to be composed, a sudden flip in his stomach. And she fidgeted some more, in which seemed like more than a few minutes, she looked up weakly and told him in intervals of breathes.

"I'm sorry, monsieur,"

"Have I not told you that my name is Erik?" His tone was sardonic; Amira was more frightened to be capable of seeing a bemused expression hidden in his voice.

"What did you want to poison me with?" Amira choked out, sitting upright and throwing his coat off of her.

"Poison you?" He laughed out, "that is dear sweet morphine, _ma chere!"_

Her confused face prompted him to continue.

"If by all means, you learn to live with this self-called beast I am, be aware that he needs, say a bit of comfort," The words sounded crude, proud, without acknowledgement of how much _comfort_ the girl in front of him had given him, "Morphine, I need it," He continued on with a deep inhalation of possession and a exhalation of depression. She nodded slowly, reminded of the men who sat around outside puffing on their tobacco.

"Besides, you're not the one to apologize," He stood up.

"I just wanted to see your face again," She defensively piped in, a pout on her face.

"Oh? So you wanted to see this face, this face that killed people with one look? This face that even a mother rejects? The face only gypsy freaks are interested in for their own personal gain?" His voice raised with every question.

Her voice was airy, but unwavering.

"Well then, maybe I'm a freak." Indeed, she was so captivated by this situation and indeed, her personal gain was the winning of his affection. It felt like everything was against her, to want the love of this man who was not wholly as perfect as she would have imagined meeting five years ago and yet he was and she could not stop what she felt. He was a foreigner but aren't all men bound to be foreigners in her life?

He reached forward, grabbed onto a pole, and looked very sad. The look a horse would give his owner before he was euthanized.

"Don't jump to such extremes," He exhausted it all out, "You do not even comprehend what you are saying,"

"I'm the one who has spoken Persian my entire life, Erik," She instinctively let out a joking smile.

"Please forgive me, I'm so sorry," He collapsed on his knees, taking her hands and kissing each finger adoringly. It had shocked her a bit, to see him fly so quickly to her side.

"Get up," Her only words came out in a rapid rush and were only how she felt, no man was worth such embarrassment to apologize to her, she recalled.

He did.

"I feel like I'm reaching for you only when it is too late, when I need you and I look back and everything, everything is gone. All my morals, all that I was walking towards, Oh Allah!" He had her hands cupped between his own.

"Shh…" Her face was mere inches away, nothing else to say and the most natural words escaped in a whispered blurt "I need to see your face,"

"One day, when I know you are ready for the horrors that await," He sighed, nodding.

"No, you mean when you are ready," Amira argued, "And I need to know if I will be still there when you are," So many lines were crossed today, she thought in amazement. Allah, she was glad not to be whipped and slapped for such boldness. But she was so sick, so sick of waiting. Her body was so tired but her mind never felt so alert, and yet the grogginess couldn't hide the sense of nausea. Why, morphine does have its uses.

He was silent, lips pressed tightly together.

"You are no freak," He finally spoke. It came so harshly, brought back the memories of him younger than Amira and stuck in a cage, ridiculed and punished for a crime not his.

"You are nothing like one," He repeated, louder than the first time, emphasizing the nothing.

"Well then, Erik," Her voice attempted his name once more, confidently continuing her words. There was no stopping her now; she was too tired of waiting for him to make up his mind, troubled and mysterious man or not. "I need you to call my own personal gain."

Outside, the sun had risen and another day had begun.

**A/N: So no update in so long! Ap Testings is brutal :P Anyone takin one?**


	12. Chapter 12

"Have the girl come over for some supper," Nadir Khan concluded.

"What do you mean?" Erik whipped his head to face his friend.

"What I mean is, you need to accept the fact she's going to be in your life and whether you like that or not," A toothy grin was on Nadir's face.

"This is bullshit," Erik groaned, "I don't know what to do,"

"So do what I say, bring her over," He pressed on, "You cannot keep her in your little room all day," And it seemed he wanted to add more to his advice but he closed his mouth.

"Mmphh!" He let out a frustrated sound.

"All right, tonight?" Nadir Khan grinned seemingly excited to meet the girl for once officially.

"Yes, yes," He agreed, nodding once too much, "I need to go to work,"

"As do I, why, I'll walk with you," Nadir made it sound like they were going to walk to the park, "And don't tell anyone but, the pay is horrible, is it not?" He nudged the twenty one year old's shoulder.

"Tell me about it," Erik snorted, standing up and finishing the last few drops of the tea.

He stood at the doorway, watching Nadir kiss his son with such affection, watching Reza reaching his weak arms up and he looked away. For once in a long time, he felt a surge of alienation with the kind family. He could almost see the life escaping him day by day, could tell his life was seemingly controlled as the tides are by the moon and it was another issue he need not face. For the first time, Erik questioned what the child did alone at home every day, and what did Amira do? The two men left the house, walking side by side, Nadir nodding to each eunuch he pass, Erik trying not to look confident or arrogant.

He hated the way the khanum would smile at him, as if she knew. He ran back to his apartment, his fast paces leading him to his house.

The door was slightly open; Amira was peering through a book, humming softly to herself, a few lines fluttering out of her mouth. He stopped in his path at the door, watching her. For once, she looked as if she had her guard down, careless and young, vulnerable. His attentive ears could barely catch the melody drifting around but it was so lovely, like a wind bristling the leaves of a tree.

"Monsieur!" She squeaked out, scaring Erik, "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't," He spoke, "We are going out, Amira, please get dressed?" His voice lowered with each hesitation.

"Yes, yes," Despite trying hard to suppress the curiosity, rushing into the adjoining closet she had grown accustomed to looking through, the various suits and ruffled shirts. Then the chests of dresses. It gave her heart thrill to see belts hanging methodically, that it was something she had never seen before in the harem. He was ever the western gentlemen, she saw him outside fidgeting and trying hard not to look. He began to look at his watch, and she hastened to dress, picking a pale red Persian style dress and threw on the burka over as a finish. She almost forgot the days she spent in the harem bathing and chatting, all the too nonchalantly. The girl in her forgot the joy of being able to dress up and go out, it was almost instinct for her to attempt to look her best. The burka lay heavy on her head, everything a shade darker through the white fabric. She skidded out of the barely lighted closet, where Erik's mouth gaped open slightly at the sight of her. She didn't look so lost, so in place but when he eyed her over in such a way, all the awkward feelings arose once more. Draped over in fabric, she looked so tiny and somehow, hidden under the veil, he felt ever the more possessive, the groom who raised the veil of his bride. Possessive feelings in knowing she was his, despite how horrid that made him feel.

Amira looked down, hand wanting to cover her already hidden face and she turned for a glance at the masked man. That was one thing they had in common.

He seemed to know why she placed her inquisitive glances upon him, and added, "Such a beautiful face,"

She was glad he did not see her blush and hoping to continue on, she began, "Do you know why we wear burkas?"

He shook his head, though his dubious expression clearly indicated he did.

"Well, it is because the face is the most tempting part of a woman, her _awrah_," She had unconsciously hoped that it would prompt him to be less hateful on his own facial deformity. It broke her heart to remember the flash second his face was seen and yet she still could not keep her stomach from turning over and an involuntary gasp escape. She wished she could call him handsome without him thinking it a lie, without thinking herself her a liar and at the same time, that was what made him all the more alluring.

"That's very interesting," His arm linked tighter around hers with every turn. She could feel the rest of the harem, her old companions, peeking through the windows, trying to hush themselves, "And do men naturally have all their rights?"

"No, men are supposed to cover the area between their navel and their knees, the same for us," Amira answered, a flow of childhood lessons instilled in her finally released to a man who presumptively knew much more in the field of well, everything. Erik let out a sort of contemplative sigh.

"Perfect for a prude as I," He answered, a knowing smile confident as he turned to look at her and she looked the other way and eager to break the silence, he continued, "You have a beautiful voice, when you sing, it's so enthralling,"

His praise was filled with honesty, and she could not help but be disappointed. The same voice she used to pray and clap, never to sing, never to release that "instrument of Satan's" in her and only to be complimented on? She was not one of the travelling Romanis with no shame with performing in front of men raucously dancing and singing, she was a fifteen year old girl trapped in a very difficult situation.

"We girls are not allowed to have such an alluring voice. Or sing, but I do not know if it is different in front of a husband because in privacy, there is not a limit to what we can do in the privacy of our marr-"And she began to stutter, "I mean, oh Monsieur, please!" And truly, she did not mean to say husband, did not mean to speak so to him when she was way below the stage of wife to him, merely a sex slave. He was not her husband, and then ashamed, she was ashamed at such behavior which should be no more than simply what it was, a business transaction. Lowering her voice, she could only let out indignant groans at her own stupidity as he furrowed his brows.

"We're almost there," He sounded like he was answering a question, "We're going to my friend's house, the Daroga," The way he had said friend, it sounded like a child saying his mother's name fondly after a long time away, and she immediately felt pity once more for the man. And his words were no lie; he halted himself in front of a compartment. His hand released hers, a sudden coolness filled her sweaty palms, and allowed himself to knock a rhythmic sound on the plain door. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he barely had time to turn before the door opened and the owner of the room graciously smiled at them, his initial greeting was stated:

"About time!"

**A/N: Sooooooooo...I really liked writing this chapter, for some weird reason and erm, I totally failed AP testing so cheer me up mates!Comment!**


	13. Chapter 13

The table was served, covered with plates of rice, lamb, and a fresh, minty yogurt meant to slather slices of cucumbers. Nadir hastily placed out his arms, ushering her to take a seat. Nonchalantly, Erik had placed himself on the seat in front of where Nadir Khan usually sat, helping himself to goblets of water. Flapping about, Nadir hurried to Reza's room, came out with a smile, and motioned for the two to begin eating.

Eyes rising under the burka, she waited for Erik to begin eating, trying not to let her eyes wander too much around the policeman's room. Nadir rushed back, reminiscent of a fat Buddha Erik had seen in temples all around Asia.

"Reza-my son-he's asleep," Nadir smiled in Amira's direction, as Erik's eyebrows raised as if knowingly, carelessly making his eating utensils slip in and out between his fingers.

Letting out a sign she understood, she nodded. Like a ghost's head bobbing up and down, Erik noted.

Nadir leaned forward and placed a large helping unto his plate, as Amira difficultly tried to eat, only by small nibbles under the veil. Her brows furrowed, forgetting how difficult it was to eat in public, to Erik's amused and cynical glance and Nadir, who had once seen her face.

"Well this is no fun," Nadir began, "Should have told me to put on a costume too," He grinned, then interrupted it by crunching on some _torshi_ in his mouth.

"Nadir," Erik pressed, leaning back a bit, his tone authorative.

"What? We eat, yes, but will lead to nothing but my full stomach," Nadir glanced, "Pass me some of the tea," He waved his hand expectantly at the tea pot next to Erik, already half emptied in several cups for the masked Frenchman.

And impulsively, Amira reached forward, grabbing the pot by its handle and poured the steaming drink into Nadir's cup.

He looked up, a hint of surprise in his face, as he looked over at Erik, but he quickly waved it over. It was almost like he had a duty to diminish any awkwardness.

"Why hello Erik, you are quite pretty," He smiled a bit, placing his bearded chin on top of an arm propped up.

She looked down.

"You two are two pods in a pea, are you not? Come on, we are old friends, well, we will be," Nadir reasoned, sipping on the hot tea. Erik shook his head violently in disapproval.

"Nadir, I'm in no mood for these jokes," Erik spoke out, spooning some rice into his mouth.

Amira found herself quiet again, lifting the burka so she could take small bites. And she let the words out before she could stop, after a few chews, "It sure is delicious,"

The compliment was more than enough to prove Erik wrong, to keep Nadir talking.

"Thank you, you wouldn't believe so, but Erik himself cooks wonderfully,"

"If you do wish to talk, please don't include me," He took a glance bashfully at Amira before looking away.

"Yes, yes, we can't all be like Erik, pour me some more tea," He pushed his cup forward absentmindedly.

Indeed she filled the cup with the tea, fumbling with the sleeves of her burka.

"So you have a son?" She was not going to miss an opportunity to socialize after days and weeks in that tiny apartment.

"Yes, he's a wonderful boy," Pride suddenly filled Nadir's voice as he took some bread from the basket.

Amira smiled. But Nadir Khan continued on.

"But he's ill, and every day, it's getting worse and worse." Thus began a long tale of Reza, one side that Erik himself never even heard at parts.

Sadness took over all three of them, Amira pushed her bowl away, the sound it made resonating. Her eyes darted from one man to the other and suddenly felt so young, never thought of the impact of family, of duty so bounded. And it was a shame to take this case so severely, despite it should be completely normal under which religion she lived under. The poor boy, the poor father!

"May I see him," She gulped, her stomach full of butterflies.

"My Reza?" He seemed taken aback, a masculine dignity that every policeman should have flooded back.

"Yes, or unless-"

"No, no, of course," He stood up, holding himself up from the table as Erik fumbled with his pockets, "Follow me,"

It took only a few steps to enter a separate compartment, the darkness overwhelmingly brightened by the lighting of a candle. It was a few quiet mumbles, weak murmurs and she felt worse for disturbing the boy. She eyed Nadir, looked down in ridicule to expect her to be trusted with his sick son.

But he seemed to read her mind.

"I'll be outside with Erik." Somehow he knew, he knew there was a nurturing part of Amira,believing her almost an older sister to his boy, the reason Erik was blindly so in love with her. She trusted people. So he trusted her.

The curtains rustled as Nadir Khan left and she kneeled next to the young boy. In the glow of the candle, she saw a mess of thick hair tousled over an emancipated face with two giant eyes and a prominent nose. A dry lip was just as pale and yellow as his skin, like a Chinaman's. Those eyes stared off frighteningly, eyes that kept blinking away, his head twitching as she neared him. But he reached out his hand weakly, wavering.

"Who are you?" His voice quavered and Amira felt the knees on which she placed her weight on tremble as if her heart grew heavier.

"You don't know me," She decided it would be scarier for a nameless person to be greeting him, and she raised her voice just a bit, "My name is Amira,"

"Reza," He mumbled, his head falling back on the pillow, "Why are you here?"

And his question was so trusting she remained speechless.

"I'm here to be your friend," The word sounded awkward when it rolled off her tongue.

"I never had a friend, only a father and Erik," Reza reasoned.

"Well, me neither, only for your Baba and Erik," She blurted out; even Reza could sense her joking smile.

"You know Erik?" It surprised her he didn't ask about his own father, "How?"

She tried to guess his age. He looked so young. Was he five? Or was he eleven?

She told him stories, mainly to keep him from struggling to fill the silence and to ignore the innocent questions she had no answers to. It felt like only minutes past but she could feel his declining strength.

His eyes started to close, his head bobbing as if he was trying to keep it up,

"Can I see your face?"

And she was taken back. A matter of morals passed her, a matter of religion. But somehow impulsively, she was annoyed with the burka anyway and the head part flew off her face and with a satisfied boyish grin only Reza could manage, his eyes closed and his nose made patterns of breathing sounds. She could hear footsteps and with a gasp, turned around. There stood Erik, suddenly not so scary, suddenly more like a stunning tiger waiting to be petted. She reached for the burka in the darkness, as Erik quietly walked toward her, and stated, "We are leaving now," And he yearningly looked at the little boy, biting back on his lips. The two walked toward the front door and having adjusted the burka back on her head, she nodded a good night to Nadir Khan, whose hands were clutching on tightly to a tiny vial filled with a different liquid than the one she had gulped down some days ago. He patted Erik's shoulders and leaned up while pushing up on his toes to whisper in his ears words that turned Amira's face red.

"You keep this one, she's a good girl to you," His lips worded, "You hear me? She reminds me of my wife, just as beautiful,"

There was no hesitation in his voice and her eyes reached to Erik's. As if nothing were the problem, his hands wrapped around hers, like in the romance books the older wives told about. Nadir turned to her and smiled. And her heart leaped, being treated by a man with such significance. He had treated her like she was a human, not one of the lowly ranks, a whore.

"Good night, Amira,"

"May Allah bless you and your son," She looked down, truly trying to instill this memory forever in her heart. The door had closed only when they had walked a significant amount before she turned to see the door closed instead of Nadir waving goodbye. Erik still had a firm grasp on her hand and she turned to look at his indifferent face. All around, guards were staring at their behavior but she gulped down every few minutes to numb herself from their stares.

And he stopped at a corner, raised her burka like it was a western wedding veil as he ushered her on the wall. One arm was delicately around her waist, separating her body from the pillars.

"What?" She left out breathlessly, about to let out reasons.

He took a few moments, it seemed like trying to catch a breath, but looking up, she was only staring into those yellow eyes pained with words he didn't dare to say.

"After tonight, well, I mean, it just, well, confirms-" He let out a frustrated groan, the other hand pounded on the hollow pillars. And suddenly, she was ravenously attacked by a kiss. His face was only centimeters away and she tried hard not to breathe too hard on him. Finally he revealed out the words he seemed to have wanted to say all night.

"I don't know anything. I just know I want to be with you in this moment,"

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed lots! Thanks for reading :D**


	14. Chapter 14

The tears had strolled down Amira's face before her mind could even comprehend what Erik had just said.

"Can you please stop pushing me around? Yes, I know, it's your right to exercise your manly rights but just-"

His lips stymied any words from coming out. Her palms pushed his chest off, pulling down the burka as if it were a curtain.

"Don't kiss me like that," She whispered hurriedly, " Don't kiss me like that, I can never tell what you really feel and I've been waiting for you to make up your mind and, and just don't!" Her voice bubbled to a whimper.

Erik looked as if he took a blow to his dignity, he stood up straighter, eyed her with bitten lips and fury tinkling in his eyes. A few minutes past, proving he would rather remain silent.

"Let's go," He finally growled, standing farther away from her and his fists clenching and unclenching.

"You're angry," Amira stated bluntly, staring straight ahead.

"Indeed," His tone was sarcastic, only heard by himself.

There was nothing more to say and the two wandered back into the house quiet. As soon as her feet touched that familiar floor, her hands flew up and removed the burka. He turned around from closing the door, and the first sight he saw was that face that had haunted his dreams for so long, defined and radiant. Beautiful and confused. The pout she gave him involuntarily made him frown with contempt even more. And her tearful face grimaced as he neared her. The burka slid off of her slowly, revealing her in her corn white dress underneath, sheer as underwear, and shapeless as a corset. She walked off whimpering, kneeled down as if for prayer. And her head turned over her shoulder, bare as one sleeve slipped. And it angered him furthermore to have her think of him that way. He stepped forward, grabbed her up by her shoulders and raised his voice an intensity louder with each word.

"How, you think I am that much of a monster? You think I would whip you? You'd better kill me before I set a hand on you!" His teeth were bared, eyes zooming all around her shaking body, "You stupid girl! You never have been slapped and whipped and bloodied for no reason, have you?"

His fingers reached for the cravat, the buttons on his shirt one by one, and he ripped off his shirt. As he released his hands, Amira could see the red marks his fingertips have left. Erik turned around and upon his back were brutal scars like a wild animal had attacked him. She could see the red marks cantankerously bridge the back bone that abnormally jutted out of his pale skin and the curve between his back and his rear, with the whittled roots of the scars, little red trees on his back. She stifled a gasp, imagining how many times she had touched that bare back, never to notice the rough rises in his back. And she had never realized she was so close to him and one finger traced the scar on his back. This time he looked over his shoulder.

All the things he wanted to say were seemingly telepathically passed to her.

_If I ever hurt you._

_I'm an animal._

Caught vulnerably, his face softened under the mask. She choked out words again.

"Who did this to you?" Disgust compulsorily filled her voice.

He reached down for his white collared shirt and she scurried, picking it up before he could. Her eyes caught the soft muscles that lined his chest and abdomen with a flutter in her stomach. Warily, he adjusted the collar of his shirt and her eyes caught the back of his hands, crossed with lines. More scars.

Both were too shy to start the first move, both were too stubborn to.

"I was a small boy, around Reza's age, when I ran away from home and I joined the gypsies. They began whipping me to amuse people, calling me the Devil's Spawn and the Monster, that's all." He intently stared off as she silently sat down.

"I'm sorry, for pushing you away." She trembled.

He furrowed his brow, slowly prying her fingers off.

"You should go to sleep now," His voice reasoned as if scolding a child.

Soundlessly, she wandered back to the bed, pathetically wiping off the tears and cried herself to sleep.

Amira never did forget the first time she awoke to the scribbling of pencils, the crumpling of paper, and a thunderous pounding so hypnotic. Erratically, she rolled over, confirmed he was not in bed again and closed her eyes, just listening.

The music surrounded Erik, a tinkering only on the only instruments he could obtain or make in a Persian palace. He inhaled the music until the repetition filled him with dizziness, only resolved by the dripping gulps of morphine down his throat. Halfway was where she was, between the pang of euphoria and a halting pause too sudden for his mind to register. His fingers pressed spastically on the instruments, a numbness in his mind as he scribbled notes. Distracted, he took a pendulum in front of him and for a while, could not rid his mind of its maddening, rhythmic beat. This kind of energy was one Erik applied best, a nerve-racking energy.

A few minutes past before sunlight hinted its arrival on the desk he worked at and he turned to where his room was, listened for any rustling, and without hesitation, swallowed the rest of the morphine as if it were alcohol. Why does everything have to be so hard? Every minute was a minute he had to remind himself to breath. There were enough problems as there was, you know, having no nose and all.

**A/N: Just a short chapter :) I wasn't going to leave it off long at ch 13...well, enjoy, i need to go study.**


	15. Chapter 15

His head dropped on the table, a babbling grin upon his face. He licked his lips; trying to swallow any droplets left and he forget just how _intoxicating_ morphine was. His face itched with perspiration but even on morphine, he had his dignity. Like the lion who growls at the ones that laugh at him, his mask remained on his face even as his muscles relaxed.

"Monsieur?" The timid voice caught his attention and he roguishly grinned at her, hair tousled by sleep and arms crossed over. Stumbling forward, he grabbed her wrist, sensed its awkwardness and mumbled out her name.

"You're using that thing, you are, aren't you?" She stepped back, smelling the familiar poison before she could locate the evidence.

"So what if I am, Amira?" The words slurred out.

Repulsed, she stepped back but his hands grabbed her brutally by the rear. She felt his fingers digging into the skin of her butt cheeks as he pulled her toward him. Those ten fingers felt the same as always, desperately holding on. His face was buried in her hair, laughing and whispering nonsense, as she tried to pry free.

"Whasamatter?" He tilted his head back and stumbled back, grabbed the vial off the ground dizzingly and flung it across the room and she flinched as she heard it break.

"Do you see that? Was a little bird that wanted to fly, well Amira, and guess what?" He looked half-crazed, "I let it goddamn fly!" It ended in chortling as he stopped to breathe for air. In his eyes, there was that glint of potential evil, so yellow and opened wide that red lines emerged. Reaching down again, he picked up crumpled paper and began to throw it as well.

She started to back away. Until Erik collapsed on the ground, writing and coughing, lying on his back like a helpless turtle. And all sense seemed to come back to him. He sputtered; his face conformed with fear as his hands stuck out awkwardly.

"Monsieur!" She shrieked a tiny bit, "Oh Allah,"

"Stay away," He muttered out breathlessly yet she leaned down and held out her hand. From a distance she could smell the morphine.

"Why?" He sat up, his knees up by his head.

Being only fifteen years old came less than handy in times like this. Amira's eyebrows arched, before she could stop the tears again. What was she doing here? With this man? Questions she had asked herself several times but never could answer honestly.

Because you're just as much as a baby and you try to cover it up by acting like you're something to be feared. That's why.

The answer was not said. And she collapsed down as well, crossing her legs under her dress. She bit down on her lip, and her head turned to see him.

"Say have you got any more morphine?" He drawled.

"Erik," Her hand reached for his knee but he absentmindedly pushed it off.

"You are pretty," He smiled jeeringly, his words all merging together.

One sweaty palm fanning himself, Amira had to speak out, "Erik, you need some rest,"

His delirium was nothing she had ever seen before in the harems, when a lady was experiencing any sort of sickness but he was sporadic, writing, and delusional.

"I got to do my work," He started up, his hands slamming onto the top of his desk but slid down once more, laughing loudly.

"Erik!" The urgency in her voice rang as fearful tears leapt in her green eyes. Again, that solemnity returned to his face for just a second and she could hear the crinkling of paper under his fingers.

His head tilted, his eyebrows raised and if not for how scared she was, she would have laughed at his expression. Then his head fell on her lap and little breathing sounds materialized from his open mouth.

Surprised, her hands nested in his sweaty head, hair smooth and thin, and she absentmindedly felt her stomach flutter. She leaned forward, cupping his face with her hands and fought off the urge to unmask him once more. Moments pass and she felt a pain in her legs; they had fallen asleep under the weight of Erik's head. He was still sleeping peacefully and all around, she heard the bells ordaining the evening prayers for the day. Sighing, she looked up, as if she was excusing herself from Allah. But still, her two hands pressed together and she bowed her head and prayed.

He shifted a few times; hands had flopped up and down, but otherwise he was still deeply asleep. The prayer ended and her attention was back to him.

Sighing, she breathed out, "What am I supposed to do?"

And she had no clue who she was addressing the question to.

His fingers traced over his arm as if it were a spider then stopped at his wrists. Her head tilted and her fingers pried his closed fist open and she removed the crumpled paper from his grasp.

Smoothing it out, she let out a gasp. Written in his swirly penmanship, from right to left, from right to left was her name over and over again and filling up half the page.

_Amira Amira Amira_

Never once did his writing falter and she dropped the letter on the floor, shuddering with something she could not identify whether it be fear or joy. It was a nice period to think, to just sit there and think. She thought about how his irrational behavior didn't scare her quite as much as it did. She thought about the comforting feeling of someone right next to her every night when he decided to go to sleep. And she thought about why and the answer hit her.

"Oh Erik," Her fingers ran through his hair again, and whispered something that sounded as mutual as "I think I'm falling for you,"

**A/N: Just a filler. But still, enjoy! Thanks!**


	16. Chapter 16

The burka headpiece slipped onto Amira's head, and she turned around, her eyes finding Erik. Somehow, he seemed to sense her, and turned around, halfway tying up his tie. He walked away from the mirror, took her by the chin and pressed his lips against hers fiercely. As she whimpered in delight, he pulled away and she pouted her lips, anxious of more. He willingly obliged.

"You're really mine?" He timidly beamed, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Yours," She leaned up, her arms squeezed between their bodies, and kissed him with no regard other than a queasy electrifying feeling in her stomach.

A week had pass and when Erik awoke on her lap, he never said anything. And she didn't either. Both of them disregarded the incident and somehow mutually agreed to fix things up once and for all. It wasn't easy to trust but neither of them would refuse a passionate kiss from the other and neither of them would refuse the endless hours of wine at midnight and conversations. Amira loved listening to him talk, loved how her mind pulsed with trying to even tinker with the words he would express and how his face would light up with unconcealed thirst.

"Erik," She gulped, it still was not up to her usual antics to call a man by his first name, "Are you certain I can go?"

"I would not allow you not to go," He fiercely growled, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of her right ear. A silence followed and he allowed himself to continue, "Amira, would not rather not stay home?"

Meekly, she shook her head. There was nothing to do in the house, it was boring.

"Very well," He finally let out a sigh but he kissed her again, and her arms wrapped tighter around him. They kissed, each waiting for the other to make the first move, whether to advance the kiss or to stop it. Almost as if she was floating, she found herself softly being pushed against the wall and little sounds of delight passed her mouth through catching their breath. His fingers ran through her hair, holding her head closer to his and then he pulled himself away as if he had developed a sudden headache and she slid slightly down the wall, breathing heavily. His head whipped away and he smoothed his vest, muttering some words as if the denial of fleshly pleasures was written for him to follow and that he had disobeyed.

"We should get going," He disappeared through another door, keeping his back to her. A few quick seconds, she had readjusted herself and placed the burka veil over her face and followed him out the door. The two walked side by side, Erik thinking it proper to stand a considerable distance.

"You cannot do this every time we do something, something," She started off boldly but found it difficult to finish her statement, "something like that,"

"Keep our private life private, will you?" His teeth bared in irritation.

Her head twisted to catch him, a remorseful expression on his face.

"Why did you want me to come if you are so disappointed in me?" She questioned.

"You were the one who wanted to come!" A frown set on his face and her walking pace decreased in fear. He halted all together, biting his own lip and sighing.

"I'm so sorry, Amira," He took one of her hands, "Sometimes, well I don't even know…"

She nodded, head bobbing up and down and he kissed on the top of the head, the burka meant so separation from him and her, and neither did the eyes of the guards. Then he took her hand and kissed the back of it and the hand laid the rest of the walk in his. Walking hand in hand with Erik down the corridors of a palace was beyond surreal, the eyes of the guards on her but he assured her, in European customs, she was his date to the ceremony.

The guards at the room eyed Erik with a nod and eye contact that seemed to signify an agreement between the two.

They walked in and the room hushed, literally made hushing sounds. The women she once was acquaintances with in the harems were all in one corner, muttering amongst themselves, the men turned around holding on their cups of tea, faces in mid laughter. And the khanum sat in the very center of the room, smiling at the both of them for the wonderful entertainment in sight. She could feel Erik's hand release hers, then clutching on again. And she bowed her head as people dodged the two, walking around them. Her eyes closed tightly under the burka and she was glad they could not see her.

And crouched in front of his mother, sat one of the khanum's sons.

"Mother who is she?" His eyes squinted suspiciously, leaning back just a bit.

The khanum let out a scoff, leaned forward so that she could whisper in his ear, "Don't you know? That's Erik's whore."

"Mother, he doesn't deserve to be called by his name," He reminded her, his hands smoothing down his beard with his perspiring hand, and then he stood up and bowed to her mother before striding over to her. All around people bowed and on the way, he accumulated two guards on either side of him.

And halfway through, Erik suddenly gained a fierce expression and Amira turned too quickly and there stood the young prince in front of her.

"You." He articulated, "Show me your face,"

"Stay away from her," Erik hissed, no degradation of her would be tolerated, even by the khan.

The two locked eyes and the provincial prince chose to ignore him.

"Pull up your veil, do as I command!" He folded his arms.

Amira turned to Erik, seemed to ask for his permission and all he gave her was a stony glare. Her fingers reached toward the bottom of the veil and she pulled it up fast, as if she could face the pain better.

He nodded in approval, studying her face and studying her figure. Then he spun around, without further words, back to his mother's side. The only words Amira could catch was his contemptuous question to the guards, "Is she a virgin?"

Minutes had past and Amira quickly put the burka back on and shuddered, holding on to Erik's arms.

"Who was that?" She cried out as he walked her toward one of the unoccupied corners.

He had not answered; too many thoughts were crossing his mind.

"That was one of the khanum's son, her fifth one, and he rules another part of Persia." Erik sighed.

"What happened?" She muttered, knowing too well what did happen. He knew that too.

Secluded from the rest, Erik began to kiss her, holding her face close to his and she breathed out, "Erik, what are you doing?"

"I don't know," He whimpered out, outlining her jaw bone, "Just stay close to me tonight,"

The night dragged on too long, the khanum too bold in demanding some magic tricks from the court assassin, and the prince's eyes laid too long on Amira.

"Do you want to go home now?" Erik found his way back to her side, seeming to be adjusting himself.

It was comforting. The way he said home and she forgot how she begged to go outside all those days trapped inside a hole.

Amira nodded and the two set out, close to midnight. And when they found themselves back in the room, all lights off, they stared at each other like two cats passing each other at night. And Amira whispered, "Kiss me,"

The lights turned on inside Erik's mind.

**A/N: So were finally getting somewhere! But summer is here and agh i need to study for finals :C hope you enjoyed thanks for reading you rock.**


	17. Chapter 17

"She's a sight to look at," The prince concluded, taking a large breath of smoke. He crossed his legs, leaned back, and grinned at the flocks of officers around him.

All of them laughed nervously, half of which did not even know whom the prince was talking about. All except for Nadir Khan. The prince's narrowing black eyes focused on the head policeman and smirked.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, your majesty," He stood up and bowed, leaving the prince ever the more suspicious.

"You are all aware, Erik has a concubine that is ironically making up for what he lacks," He laughed, his head falling back.

"But you want her?" One of the officers asked the question Nadir himself waited for.

"Would you not?" He chortled, eyes opening wide at the very thought.

"What's the plan? We kill the foreigner?" One of the agressive officers rubbed his two palms together wth a devilish grin.

The prince did not answer but his face returned to Nadir.

"Well, what do you think of all this?" He blew another puff of smoke, "You seem to have no interest,"

"Nothing to be amused about, Your Grand Highness," Nadir lowered his gaze.

"Are you mocking me? You better be careful, I can have you killed in a moment," Reassurance spread as the officers nodded.

"Your Majesty," Nadir Khan started, "I beg you to reconsider, she belongs to Erik,"

"And does this matter?"

"These two," And Nadir paused.

"These two what?" The prince leaned in, "Tell me,"

After a breath, he continued, "They deserve to have each other, are as close as a husband and wife,"

"I see, you are right!" He laughed in realization, "they aren't even married! What can stop me from having a stupid odalisque, it will be no difficulty." Nadir's grave face angered him more, "No one will be hurt, if anything, Erik can keep his whore. After I am done with her,"

"He would never let you," He muttered, through his teeth.

"What did you say?" He leaned in, hostile.

"Nothing, Grand One," Nadir articulated. Satisfied, the prince leaned back and turned to the one who had talked earlier.

"Are we ready?"

* * *

She let out a muffled sigh as she rolled over, rubbing her eyes as the sunlight peaked from behind the curtains. Her body pushed deeper into the matress and turned over, blinking. It was hard to realize how different things were over the past few months. She herself had lost track of the time, had not realized her hair growing longer, had not realized Erik as her master. She yawned, her arms reaching for something to cover her body. The ground was too far. Her dress was nicely folded at the bottom of the bed and she simpered at what a gentleman Erik was. The dress was slipped on and Amira smiled to herself, the only thing on her mind was finding him.

She tiptoed to the next room, her ears filled with all the familiar tinkerings and suddenly, butterflies appeared in stomach. Doubt began to rise. But she knew she wanted him, that was all she wanted right now.

"Erik," The word floated out of her mouth.

There he sat, completely frustrated by her music he was occupied with. She tiptoed over, barely able to contain her smile. The odalisque slipped into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. One arm lapped around her lower waist, the fingers tapping on her hip bone. And the memory entered her mind. Last night. His hand cradled her head, pulling her closer against his own body.

"Amira," He gasped out, "I-"

"Don't say anything, don't apologize," Her lips touched his, fluttering against his.

He groaned out.

"You have not even the remotest idea how all this makes me feel," He murmured, pulling her up higher on his lap.

"Perhaps," She answered, her hands rubbing against the bottom of his head, her hands running through the slightly damp hair.

"Surely, prostitution take you to follow my every words, you can just refuse me," He muttered, "I won't hurt you but goddamn it, don't tempt me like this."

"Tempt you, monsieur?" Amira was slightly amused, "Does it get through your genius of a brain to realize the difference between martyrdom and saintdom?" A laugh filled the room, spontaneous as bubbles, and Amira closed her eyes to stop the tears, tears of this maniacal happiness or of this confusing irritation.

"Shh..." He hushed her, his left hand dropping the pen he was using. Startled, her head turned and she caught the most beautiful penmanship she had seen, more elaborate and intensely _him_, unlike the poetic calligraphic writings of the poems that fill the palace.

"You write with your left hand," She concluded, her eyes misting witht he last of her tears.

He nodded, eyes prodding for an answer, perhaps a God fearing scream or a scolding, something to fill the silence.

"Allah," She felt her chest heave as she giggled, and she leaned in. She kissed him on the cheek. The masked man wished he wasn't masked at the moment, to feel her lips instead of on plastic.

"I'm fascinated," She whispered against the white mask, "I am so fascinated, and don't mistake this, this attention,"

A silence prompted her to finish what her fifteen year old mind can muster up.

"I do this because I think I love you and I want to be loved," The words were barely a whisper but they felt louder than that ticking of the clock, than the outside sounds of the early market shoppers.

"But," He interjected, "I can't describe anything I'm feeling,"

"Then don't," Amira cried out, " The way you behave, the fact you haven't left me out to die yet, I was silly enough to think I had any chance."

And her glare turned amusingly serious, "Don't give me any bull, did you ever think what I've gone through? Up until now? It hurts!"

"Don't tell me I was trained to do this, don't tell me _you're_ not worth it," Her voice was raising and when she tried to escape was the only time Erik held on tighter, "I don't know what it was that made me even think I was falling in love with you!" And the tears exploded once more, a rainstorm catching one by surprise.

"Quite a lot of don'ts," Erik finished exasperatedely, and then his hands, both of them, held on to her waist, "Please don't cry, please," The pleading came like whimpers, whimpers of a dog or maybe a beggar, but not from Erik, "But I know that I don't want you to leave me,"

"You sure don't act like it," She rolled her eyes, forgetting any manners the ladies in the harem had instilled in her.

"Forgive me," And his voice was decisive, hypnotic enough to make her green eyes stare into his golden ones in confusion of the very thing she was arguing about. He didn't need to reiterate anything about what he understood and what he didn't. Then his hands traveled up her thigh, a milllisecond of forgetfulness to the bare legs on top of his own legs.

His hands roamed against the cool skin as she let out little gasps of surprise, none of refusal. It was still a shock to feel skin against his hand instead of expecting stockings and heavy crinoline in the way.

"Amira," He whispered, "Amira,"

His arms began to act purely on instinct, wrapped under her legs and her back. Like two students ditching class to enjoy an afternoon by the lake, they giddily rushed to the placed her on the bed and without anymore hesitation, leaned in and kissed her.

Erik's ears had not failed him yet and he paused, standing up at once and pushing back his hair.

"Someone's at the door."

**A/N: Greetings! Hope you all enjoy your summer lots! Thanks!**


	18. Chapter 18

Surely, the knocks came. Poundings, scratches, snickers.

Amira's eyes darted from Erik to the door, seeming as if her choice was between the two.

"Go," He mouthed, the yellow eyes travelling toward one of the other rooms, "Tidy up,"

Heavy-hearted, Erik wandered forward. Normally, he would not have cared but the situation he was caught in demanded so, there was that pitiful girl to be considered. And so, his hands felt ever the more heavy on that handlebar.

Before he had opened the door completely, a herd of men rushed in, tweedy pupils scanning the room, bearded lips muttering, and colossal footsteps. They dispersed and Erik closed the door they had slammed against the walls as they rammed in.

"Bloody inconsiderate fools," Erik muttered, his hands sliding his pocket, his eyes ready to be rolled. Then the last man who entered turned around.

"You!" He smiled at Erik as if they were kind, old friends.

Before either of them can speak, two men dragged in Amira, one of their hands over her mouth whose teeth could do no harm to the laughing men. A veil was disheveled on her head, her feet skipping like stones over water on the floor.

There was no words for Erik to say, his teeth bared in shock, then in anger, and he rushed forward with arms raised.

"Release her," The prince sighed out, and her two arms felt relief from the tight grips. She sank to the floor and Erik broke through the towering guards next to Amira on the floor.

"What is your business?" Erik spat at the young prince, tucking a hair behind Amira's ears.

"Merely to get what I want," His eyebrows raised as he focused only on the fifteen year old.

"I will not allow it, you cannot just take her away," Erik growled, standing up. He was a couple of inches taller than him but the prince did not back down. Royal blood seemed to have made him airy. And a grimace made him turn around to face his beloved, "Unless that's what Amira wants,"

"No!" She mouthed, rising up and grabbing onto Erik's sleeved arms.

"I suggest you leave," Erik regained his assurances.

"I suggest you hand over _Amira_," His eyes were leeches, crawling up and down her exposed arms. All around the apartment, his men circled them. There must have been over ten body guards accompanying the prince. Some grinned stupidly whenever Amira glanced over at them, some folded their arms over their chest.

"Your mother," Erik felt himself groan inwardly, he hated to use that excuse, "gave her to me, so kindly, back off,"

"My mother is a fool to be associated with a charlatan like you," He sneered, one hand playing with the tip of his beard.

Everyone realized in that room that this would not end well. Would they mourn the end of a prince? Not possible, they would celebrate another mistress for their prince. Erik did not fill his mind with panic at the sight of the strong guards, could not feel anything but a cold hand in his own and the girl hiding behind him.

"Don't you know, Amira? I would have no other because there are no others in this empire more beautiful than you," He inched forward as Erik tried to cover her as much as he possibly could, "Why would you possibly stay with this mind who has proved no past and," He paused before his tone became bitter, " no future?"

The prince's fingers grabbed his rival's wrists and spoke, " Step away,"

"_Fuck_ off," He lowered his glance, almost beastly, as he defended Amira.

Amira whimpered to herself. Part of her knew that if she showed any fear, Erik would be mad, mad at everyone including her. The masked man seemed to sound different, not human, and lacking any feeling. He would not liked her to be scared but everything was moving frighteningly fast. This boy had as much patience as his mother and this darker side of Erik, it aroused her. And it frightened her.

"Very well, if you must choose to be difficult," The prince did not break off his glare at Erik. Amira bit on her lips to stifle any screams. A wave of nausea hit her, her stomach churned, her eyes hazy.

With a snap of his fingers, the men scattered around the room came toward them with menace in their eyes. They separated the two to different ends of the room, Amira against the door and Erik near the walls. As the guards fought back the urge to touch her before their prince did, Erik let out a growl, kicking at everyone around which only concluded with him slammed against the wall. Magician he was, he was no match for a dozen men whose belts included weapons. They slammed him to the floor, hands strangling him as he fought to sit up, the back of his head moist.

"Let him go. Let him go!" Amira began screaming, trying to pry off the men.

Erik felt like giving up, felt that maybe if he caught of Amira, it would end this pain, maybe it was all the end of a dream that the girl he fell so hard for was merely all just a dream to dissipate once he awoke. His elbow flung and his feet kicked but the attack on him was so hard. He felt him jolt back with every blow to the stomach, he could taste the blood trickling out of his mouth and then a crackling pain that made him scream out incomprehensible words. His leg seemed to go numb, he tried to walk toward them, tried to strangle them but he couldn't. He couldn't fight the entire world. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, a cry that syncronized with his, her tearful eyes followed the prince who walked through the crowd.

Something was glistening in his hands and as Erik was pulled up by his hair, and he caught his breath at last, chest heaving up and down. His right leg felt futile, cringing as he tested his right knee. His head turned for a glance for her and Amira felt the need to puke.

"Say she's mine," The prince growled.

"Not until my last breath." Erik wiped his mouth and the prince seemed to have found this answer more exciting than the word yes.

"Very well," He raised his knife," You have made a foolish choice, _monster_,"

At that moment, Amira's eyes clenched, and she raised her voice faster than the guards can cover her lips.

"I'll go with you!" Amira leaned forward, as if she could cover him now, "Leave him alone, please! Please, just take me! Don't touch him,"

The prince turned around, a smile on his face once so serious.

Another snap and they dispersed, standing at attention. They left him sprawled on the floor and he writhed in pain.

_So it _was_ all a dream._

The prince himself arranged her veil and they set to walk out. But she stopped and ran toward him, her lips briefly tasting iron and copper.

"Sorry," She could only mutter before one of the guards came and pulled her off him and they exited the room. She never took her eyes off him until he was no longer in her sight.

**A/N: Ello! Long time no see eh? This chapter was easy to write...i dunno, what do you think? Thanks!**


	19. Chapter 19

"_Merde_" The word escaped his lips, which he later bit down on. He rolled over best he could, the silliest thing crossed his mind. One hand reached up to make sure his mask was still present on his face. His ears caught the sound of scuffling and he moaned, turning his neck faster than he expected.

"Who's there?" He pronounced, pressing down on areas that were redder than anyone's complexion should be.

"Shhh..." Nadir Khan stepped forward, throwing furtive glances at the door, "Allah, Erik,"

Nadir Khan frowned, his arm diving under his friend's neck.

"Let me be, Nadir!" Erik bit on his lip, the throbbing pain overwhelming, "I can handle this by myself,"

"You always say so, but Erik, that is not always the case," Nadir let himself grin.

"You're right," Erik agreed, the back of his head pounding the floor, "I always said I needed a woman to soothe my fleshly urges,"

"You're young," Nadir reasoned, after a while, and continued, " Erik, we have to get you some help,"

"Where in the world will you go find me help?" Erik laughed, "Pass me some morphine, will you?"

With his eyes lowered, he passed the familiar bottle he helped Erik buy several times. He chugged the drug down, the immediate effect Nadir could feel in his arms as he relaxed in his grasp.

"Daroga, you will get in trouble, would you?" The words came out like bubbles, followed by laughter, "I donwannageryouintrouble, yaknow?"

"Then keep quiet, please," Nadir inspected the wounds. Some jobs were better when the patient is unconcious, he supposed, "Can you stand up?"

"Leg's broken," His fingers drew a parabola as he pointed to his leg, "Say, have any more morphine?"

"That was the only bottle in your pocket," The daroga heaved up the phantom, instantly feeling the consequences in his middle-aged back.

"That's no fun," Erik concluded, wiping off drool.

"Erik, stop this instant," Nadir became impatient, " I'm going to help you to your bed and you are going to get there. Please. Just shut up for a second,"

"No one tells me to shut up," Erik raised his arm but began limping toward the bed silently, "Did I kill em, Nadir? I wanted to, agh, my leg hurts like hell," Nadir eased him on the bed silently. The back of his palm tested the temperature of his forehead, too much like all those times he did the same with Reza. The Daroga never expected the wounds to be this serious and he sighed as he pulled up medicinal objects from his pack.

"keep seein this stuufffff in my heeead, it clacks, ya know? like, maybe a pistol and BOOOM, mmm, Nadir, you know what that is right, I donwanna explain it to ya, mother it hurts like that," He kept talking and the daroga let him, occasionally agreeing and disagreeing until he silenced again.

"Nadir," A whimpering voice raised in the silent room and he turned, wrapping bandage around his arm. He urged him on. "Is she coming back to me?"

And the way he said she, Nadir could imagine Reza and a younger version of this masked man asking for his mother, him asking for his wife, and he grimly answered for him the answer, no doubt it was. No. He convulsed, calling for more morphine, and Nadir could see the tears escaping his face and he eventually quieted down to a whimper before falling asleep. The daroga sighed, cleaning up the mess and tending to Erik's wound. He wouldn't dare leave him alone in this condition, feared for his suicide over that girl.

Allowing himself to sit, he began to think. Think about Reza, think of his job, and he turned to face Erik. Amazement rippled through him at just how different they two are, and why he wanted to help the stranger so much.

It was nearly nightfall by the time Erik arose from his hours of drowsy drug induced sleep. His body ached and he let out a groan, and alert, his eyes caught Nadir Khan and he immediately regretted showing signs of pain.

"Hullo." Erik murmured.

"Erik," The policeman nodded.

He began to sit up, wincing in pain of his leg. And he motioned toward the kitchen, "Eat yet?"

"No, do you need anything?" Nadir asked, starting to stand up.

"Why are you suddenly so nice? Boys get hurt all the time," Erik smirked, pushing back hair off his bruised face but he soon turned solemn, "Nadir, you sure are going to get in trouble, aren't you?'

Indifferently, he shrugged, his feeble answer was so: "I work for the Khanum not him." If not in the palace filled with officers, he would have chosen different wording.

For a second, both were silent. Erik turned to his friend and told him quite confidently.

"I'm going to get her back." He couldn't even bear to say her name.

"That will be difficult. I can only hope that once he leaves. He shall leave without her." Nadir sincerely hoped either of the pair would be sensible, "Keep calm-"

"Are you mad? He practically _kidnapped_ her, I don't care about the bastard." Erik's head hit the pillow in frustration.

"I don't know what I'm going to do but I'm going to do it," Erik muttered, "I just need to clear my head,"

"I advise you, don't be reckless." The Daroga half expected to be struck. What could he suggest about love, about the fact he could have any woman he wanted if he appealed to the khanum, to fill their little world with entertainment.

"I won't stop at anything." He swallowed gulps of air. The words came out less possesive and more tearful. "She's mine."

His lips pressed together and his eyes lowered. There was no chance of stopping him now.

**A/N: Kinda filler. Hope you like. :D Thanks.**


	20. Chapter 20

Amira preferred to spend her days out as far as possible from the rest of the harem. The normality of this supposed life was frightening to her. The way the women all gathered, mindless to anything other than gossip, worship, and children. Her days were occupied by walks in the garden, finding her ways of thinking clearly of everything. It had been nearly two months since she was "taken" by the prince and word kept muted, slander directed at the masked man she was desperately trying to contact. Self-sacrifice should never have been a choice but she would not want to see him hurt like that. The first few weeks she informed the prince she was not feeling well. And he had turned to her.

"A shame then. Best save you when you're body has matured." He smiled maliciously without intent.

The fifteen year old nodded.

"Do not fear. You know we Persians usually don't kidnap people but think of this, something called making trouble for that European bastard."

She shivered, as she stood naked, attended by a few concubines and eunuchs gathered to see the new odalisque and was led to a room, where she started to cry shamelessly.

In the darkness, she examined her own body with disgust, her body newly waxed again, and her hands reached to her breasts. A sigh escaped her mouth as disgust filled her mind. He had expected budding breasts, soft skin, a virginal body for him to corrupt and instead he had only obtained her. A girl hopelessly in love with a man that was no more scarier than this prince was to her and made her all together a new girl. Her wish was to be forgotten and every night as she slept, she hoped to Allah it was not going to be her door he would knock on. So far it was true. An amazement to her how ignorant her world was now. but yet she was shocked. Two long months passed before her eyes and her many strategies to draw his disapproval without anything too suicidal were apparently working.

The morning started well for Amira as she wrapped herself in an outfit when the door knocked. She froze.

"Hello, darling." A matronly lady walked in, one who could have been Amira's own mother. Her brown eyes danced in amusement as she eyed the newest addition to her husband's harem. Her neck, ears, and fingers were laden with jewels bigger the eyes that stared at her.

"Don't be scared." Her voice was a warm laughter, "I am His wondrous Majesty's head wife. Please, I've heard all about you from the khanum herself."

The wrinkles around her eyes seemed not from age, not from sorrow, but something other than that and she stepped forward to stand closer to the girl who immediately prostrated herself in front of her. And a moment slipped her and she saw a girl not too same from the others and yet that complaining tone was still in the air, that fearful waver she couldn't even remember when she herself married the prince.

"Dear, I hope we can become good friends, my name is Nisrine." She was reminded of her own children, having bore an impressive sum of nine children, six of which are male. Amira raised her head, tilted a bit at her direction as if she was blinding as the sun to look at.

"I could have come earlier but you were in such a state of shock, and I was quite busy, and well, here I am," She announced, "Say, Amira jan, come to the bath house with me, I want you to meet the others as well. Don't be so selfish in your love for our dear prince!," She smiled genuinely and authoritatively that Amira could only nod.

That first day was a flutter of meetings, snide remarks, and new decisions of whom were friends. And who were not. Nisrine, she had agreed with herself, was a friend. The lady was two years older than the Prince whom she fondly nicknamed "Lion". At thirty six, she had seemed content with her life, acknowledged her role and was fine with her title. She was the perfect example of calmness, and spent her days composing poetry and playing music if not chatting with the other wives, sometimes graciously offering her time to the lower concubines and odalisques. A few of her children remained in the harem with her but others were off and so Amira was able to look up to her as a mother.

Two weeks into their acquaintance, she had revealed much of her situation to Nisrine who nodded sympathetically and Amira found a new meaning in her companionship with the head wife and found herself preparing to go to the bathhouses everyday.

The two of them sat next to each other surrounded by flocks of women and young children in the bathwater.

"And I heard that officer, that Nadir Khan's son is dying, going to die any second." One of the wives began.

"Shame he didn't remarry, he's handsome," One of the girls giggled.

"He is not!" Another objected.

Hours passed in that tub and Amira could feel her skin becoming wrinkly in the water. It was when she saw the sun outisde begin to set when the women decided to gather out their towels and exit. And when Nisrine handed her a towel, the eunuchs had rushed to the entrance shouting and running. Everything blurred in front of her eyes as eunuchs raised their spears and shouted. The women screamed as well, hiding behind pillars or back into the water as silently as they could and Amira shivered when she had heard one voice above the others.

Erik's.

**a/n: and school is about to start! dang. thanks for reading. will try to update fast!**


	21. Chapter 21

"Amira," He was before her eyes, surreal, and she could not blink her eyes despite the strain she felt. A few steps forward had the eunuchs rushing forward but he pushed them off and somehow her body had glided towards his. He limped a bit, but he was still taller than her.

"It's you," She let out a smile before she could stifle it, and her arms laced around him, "It's really you,"

Everyone gasped, the eunuchs casting eyes around, and the whispers began. Never had Amira wished she knew French to deny all these staring eyes.

An awkward next changed the scene and Amira pulled the towel tighter around her naked body. Clumsy, it should be so.

There was so much to say.

"Erik, kiss me," She whispered, desperately, could literally feel their time together decreasing. Knowing he would never make that first move. And so they kissed, much to the shock of everyone around them.

"_Dostet daram_" She broke off the kiss, "Erik, please, I'm sorry,"

"Amira," He smothered her hair with kisses and tousles of his hand, "I'm going to get you out of here, love, I will," The buzzing of the yells grew louder but Amira could make no sense of it, "Don't cry," He said as if he was the one who was crying.

She leaned forward, and pulled him for another kiss. Before she could respond, he was walking away, never looking back, fists clenched.

"Well!" One mistress of the prince stepped forward, "So romantic!"

"Are you joking? That was improper. For all of us." Another glared at Amira, then did a quick prayer.

And Nisrine's arms coldly placed themselves around her waist.

"Let us go," Her voice was so serene, so calm. And when they were at a considerable distance from the other girls, she began in a quiet but excited voice, "You must have really loved him,"

"I do, he is my life," Amira couldn't deny this from Nisrine.

"Don't worry, he is already a part of you," Nisrine grinned and she turned to look at the head wife in confusion.

Nisrine had her chuckling eyes planted on her stomach and a hand flew down.

"You're going to have a child, can you not tell?" Nisrine wrapped her arms around hers, and Amira burst into tears, both hands holding her stomach. So that explained everything. Her body growing bigger, her sudden impulses to puke, her increased cries.

"They're going to take him away from me," Amira cried, pausing.

"Darling, he knew, he told me to watch you, Lion did. He won't, he's waiting for you and he likes the wait." She patted her head.

"Then what?" She burst out.

Nisrine sighed.

"They are hoping that your child looks like the father so they can do something to the child.-"

"But you must prevent them! Nisrine!" Amira screamed out hysterically, "Why didn't you tell me? Erik, Allah, oh Allah! He doesn't even know,"

"Calm down, please," her eyes grew fierce and alert.

"Please, I'll do anything, just keep my baby safe," She slipped down on the floor, prostrated to Nisrine as more people rushed up to the commotion.

"Amira. Get up," Experience with nine children prepared her well and when those pleading green eyes looked up, she softened, "I'll help you. As my own daughter. Be glad, the baby's coming in five months."

"Five months." Amira considered, "Allah!"

Suddenly, she didn't feel fifteen. She felt older, wiser, and she smirked to herself before turning to Nisrine, "You're a great friend."

There was nothing more to say and they walked back to their chambers.

Nisrine bowed to her husband.

"What is it? I'm busy," He growled.

"The girl's having a child," Nisrine flopped down on the chiffon.

"Which one?" He turned to face her.

"The newest one, Amira," She lazily stated, "She was when you took her, it's evident now,"

"Well then, get rid of the baby," He distractedly told his wife, "Is that all?"

"Darling, don't," Nisrine casually laughed, "Wouldn't it be fascinating to see how _ugly_ the child would be?" And the realization hit the prince.

"I still haven't slept with her yet," he counted to himself something before turning to his wife, "Do what you want with the girl, I'm going to see my mother,"

"Keep your word," Nisrine listed out.

A laugh erupted from his mouth, "Bitch, don't tell me to keep promises, I make them," and he walked out of the room.

That night, Amira rolled in her bed, and thought about everything.

Erik will come back and they'll live happily with their child. She could just imagine it.

**A/N: yeaaaaaaaaa. thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

When Erik Destler's door creaked open, he couldn't help but acknowledge it. A woman, older but with a crown of graying hair entered, a serene smile on her face. Erik squinted at the barely morning sky, distinguished the woman as a stranger and reached forward, beginning to speak.

"My name is Nisrine, I know Amira," She ushered out the first words, the only words that would matter to him, mostly the latter. He seemed to lower his guard, and she glided onto a chiffon.

"Who are you?" He questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, you too amuse me so," She laughed out softly.

"Tell me your business," He impatiently organized the music he was working on his desk.

" You would not talk to me so," She coldly began,"If you knew who I was, that you should be the one begging for my help."

Without waiting, she announced herself, " I am the head wife of the prince who took your precious Amira,"

"You!" He stood up, angry fists.

"Do not raise your voice at me," Nisrine smiled, "If only I didn't tell you my identity."

"Listen, I have no time for these jokes," He started to rise only to be stopped by the cold shrill of her voice.

"To go whore my mother in law?" She smirked and Erik succumbed, siting back down and beginning in an exasperated voice.

"What is it?" He glanced at a time telling device in his chamber.

"Well, I was so amazed by your _heroic_ attempt last week," She started to eye his lowered glance, embarrassment and vulnerability in his eyes.

"What are you getting at? You'll help me get Amira back?" He interrupted.

"Ever so bold," She rolled her eyes, "Maybe, if you are being kind to me," She glanced him a look supposed to look him feel guilty.

"I will do anything," He enunciated, voice growing hoarse.

"Would you?" She glanced over her nails, "Most men wouldn't care."

"Well, then, I am not a man, am I?" He answered bluntly, leaning on his elbow.

"I love her," He grunted out.

And she smiled at him, amused. This was a good story to be played out.

* * *

Erik left his apartment with a filled mind and set before the khanum, no one would have known. He was brilliant in hiding his emotions, and the khanum observed, watching the way Erik tortured the prisoners. It felt as if he were the one wronged and she clapped at the end.

Erik nodded.

The weeks had passed after her son took away another boy's present and she could only sigh. Boys will be boys. Or toys.

She was sure he would leave but he proved not human, this Angel of Death. And she could have almost pitied him. After a day of brutality, he was excused and already the instinct in her told her either he or her own son would leave. They could not stay in peace and she wanted to keep the magician. It isn't everyday your personal entertainment and executioner is a masked monster.

Afterward, Erik went to Nadir's room.

"I can't make sense of anything," He groaned, "Today's been too confusing."

"Erik," Nadir placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh _Merde_," Erik repeated over and over again. And through bloodshot eyes, he relieved his mind of his problems and without a word, went to Reza.

"Where have you been all this time?" Reza uttered out quietly, squinting his eyes in hopes of seeing Erik clearly.

"Reza, I'm so sorry," He leaned forward, kissing him softly on the forehead before pushing his hair out of his face, "There was some...issues,"

"Oh." A whiff of air came out, "Is it all fixed?"

Erik had to bite on his lips, and his eyes scanned the boy. He seemed to limp, as if is body was conforming to the shape of his cushions.

"No, Reza, but do you want a story?"

"Please," He weakly smiled before relaxing and closing his eyes.

So Erik distracted himself, a selfish inclination sneaking in as he watched the young boy absorb himself into his tale, as he stained his ears to listen to the Persian words, and Erik's body shivered at the thought of this body. In what he could tell. Reza did not have long to live. Everything had brought too many months of neglect. But he couldn't lose him too, after losing her.

Everything was always his fault.

* * *

"Did he say anything about me?" Amira followed Nisrine like a sheep, dumbfounded by this new connection formed.

"Honey, I do not want to talk about this," She feigned headache.

"But please, Nisrine, tell me," She begged, " You are my only friend, and you are so kind!"

"I thank you dear," She smiled involuntarily at the fifteen year old, "Anyways, you must not trouble yourself, the baby,"

Amira nodded and took her cue to leave, but before exiting back to her room, she turned around, "Oh Nisrine! You must see him again! Give him my messages, tell him," And she pointed at her belly. She skipped out of the room, smiling to herself, thinking constantly of the happy family she would be given. Nisrine would help her, she and Erik would be reunited!

Again, Nisrine smiled.

This _will_ be amusing.

**a/n: duhdundun! thanks for reading! will update soon...happy labor day  
**


	23. Chapter 23

"How ever is this supposed to work?" Nisrine questioned Erik one afternoon, when the sun was too hot for either to be taking walks in the garden. In the palatial gardens, _because no one minds a walk, and no one minds who's taking the walk as long as the Angel of Death is your companion, _according to Nisrine.

A few days loosened Erik's suspicions over the head wife of his most loathed enemy, as she proved to be amiable as she could possibly be, and as long as he got word about Amira.

She didn't like to talk about Amira, that much Erik could tell, but he latched on to anything he could as the two walked together whenever he was free of his duties.

"Please don't touch that," Erik was in the process of slipping back the morphine into his pockets. It irritated him sometimes, when he didn't have morphine which had started to depend on ever since Amira left. But Nisrine kept him occupied.

He could smirk whenever they did walk though. In the gardens, where no one could say a thing because they knew a thing or two about the death chambers.

"Well, I just want to see," She leaned back in the chair rolling her eyes that seemed to say, "you poor boy" and she turned to smile at Erik.

"I enjoy music," She revealed, "Want to hear?"

The suggestive question never was answered because she proceeded, grabbing the sheet music and making up words to go along with the melody Erik had written.

Before she was halfway down the page, it was snatched from her sight, then crumpled.

The masked man was evidently not amused.

"Was it that bad, Erik?" She pouted, "I'm hurt,"

"Stop fooling about! Music is a…very private thing for me," He leaned from behind her, two hands organizing the tables and closing the cover of his music.

"Don Juan?" The head wife tried, "What is that?"

"Nothing!" Erik growled.

"I will not ask again, if you don't want me to," She smirked at him, it was devious. Yet it made Erik feel so…energized. So playful. And he rarely felt so. He took a educated guess that hanging out with older women who weren't depressed was relieving him.

"Must you always be so uptight, darling?" She simpered, "Anyways, tell me," She grasped one of his hands, "How is my voice after all these years?"

"It was pretty good," He considered, "If, well, I guess that's more of an European style, but your voice is pretty good,"

"Thank you," She smiled in thanks for the critique.

"Maybe," An idea flashed in his mind but evaporated faster than she could catch on.

"Will you allow me to finish my song, then?" She reached into the waste bin for the crumpled sheet.

Erik grumbled, but he consented. He was willing to hear anyone that could sing his Don Juan. But no, this_ was_ Don Juan! No mortal woman could dare accomplish what he had written.

"I'm waiting," She feigned a yawn, "Allah, I shall just recite a poem,"

With a smirk, she began, and a poem seemed to appear as if she wrote it, carelessly escaping her mouth and yet so much...emotion.

"Did you ever act?" He questioned lightly.

"Erik! How dare you even suggest such behavior!" Her eyes widened and then she returned to her graceful feline slump, "No, there's a reason why men fall in love with me, I hold lots of talents up my sleeves,"

"I'm sure you do," Erik laconically replied. When he looked just involuntarily out the window, she leaped out of the chair. With a smile, she glided past Erik, out the door, and left. Erik knew she would be back tomorrow. And without courage, he told himself. Tomorrow. He would tell her tomorrow.

* * *

"Nisrine," The khanum greeted her daughter in law, who prostrated herself before her.

"Grand Mistress of the Four Winds and Oceans," Nisrine's face twitched to a gravelly expression.

"So you have been walking about with my Angel of Death?" The khanum stifled any jealousy she felt.

"Yes," She bowed again, "I just want to observe something, and beside, I will be wanting a collaboration for a show! Yes, for when we are going away and I hope to write a play for my dear husband, your son,"

"Is that really so?" She arched one eyebrow at her daughter in law, who had begun to take the palm of her foot and began to massage it.

"When have I ever been anything but a poor insignificant daughter to you," She smiled, "Please allow me to go on with this,"

"This has nothing to do with the concubine right?" The khanum asked.

"No! Of course, who cares about her? She's just a concubine!" Nisrine let out a sharp laugh.

"It feels as if Erik is becoming less and less lively." She argued.

"Oh, when has he ever been anything but that? I do not understand why you like him so, he is such a depressing and dark person to be around, I would much rather spend my days with a goat!" Nisrine replied. And her distraction worked. The khanum left the topic without further ado, as long as in the end, nothing she feared would occur. The pair spent the rest of the daylight hours chatting and from far away, it looked quite cozy. From a shah's view, he would hope any wife of his would treat his mother just as grand. So when Nadir Khan entered the palace and interrupted such loving family ties, he would have no idea what his friend was in for.

**A/N: Short filler chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24

"Are you sure? About the baby?" Amira leaned to timidly whisper in her new mother figure's ear.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked, suppressing a smile, just barely. Just enough to look like she actually cared.

"Well," She gasped a bit, choking on the air, "My monthly cycle came,"

"What?" Nisrine leaped out of her seat.

"I never thought…and then I realized it did not come for the past few months and then, what's happening?" She shuddered as she glanced from Nisrine to her stomach.

For a moment, she was a bird, scrutinizing her eyes and observing her as if she were prey.

"I guess I was wrong, darling," She wrapped one arm tactfully around the devastated girl.

"Don't worry, this would not happen again, not when my husband is the father. Allah will protect the child unlike that of the Christian Devil's."

"Erik." The name entered her mind with all encompassing emotions returning. For a second she had felt ashamed, to have had him replaced in her mind. A sudden yearning to be held by him, to have him kiss her. It was all enough to cry out a mourner's wail.

"Oh Allah! I though I was done with tears," She cried out, " Please let me be excused!"

And she ran out of Nisrine's sight. With a distasteful sigh, she glanced over at the clock. Same time as always. Same time as the last week, when she had first seen his Don Juan. Now she knew what matters to him, it would be no problem to bring out her plan. If her best friend was not herself, she would wink at that blessed soul.

Nisrine made her way to the familiar door. Strange that should stand so boldly amongst all the other residential occupations in the palace but this one always looked foreboding, always looked intimidated. She turned her eyes lazily and smirked at the guards. He sheepishly grinned in return. Then one hand reached to the knocker and the door opened within seconds.

"Erik!" She greeted, a note of joviality in her usually sardonic voice.

"Nisrine," He closed the door behind her.

Today Nisrine didn't feel like stalling time. She strolled her way to his bedroom as he followed hesitantly.

"What are you doing?" His fingers went to his collar, suddenly feeling it too loose on his neck.

"How old are you, Erik joon?" She asked, lowering her shawl just a bit.

"Well, I just turned twenty two a few weeks ago," He contemplated.

"Such a lamb," A soft laugh erupted out of her mouth as she turned to smile at the masked man, "You know? I want to know what you look like,"

Erik's hand reached his stoic face.

"No," He bit on his lip.

"Don't feel as you need to be defensive about it Erik," She placed herself on the bed, adjusting to how fluffy it was.

"Nisrine, what is going on?" He folded his arms, tilting his head forward as if observing her.

"I forget that you're much younger than you allow yourself to be, dear," She smirked a smirk that made Erik shiver. Not at all in a good way.

"In all my years, I've had more experience than your odalisque could ever have learned to do, Erik," She sighed out, "Do you remember her?"

"Amira," He let out, feeling a rumbling from within himself.

"Damn your memory," She growled, leaning forward, "Did you ever wander how it would be to be loved by an actual woman?"

"Are you-" God. This was awkward enough when the khanum did this, but when Nisrine leaned forward, he didn't know whether he wanted to or he wished to. He could feel his palms sweating and the hairs on his neck rising when her voice lowered to a husky breath, when a flash of warm skin peeked from beneath the veil. For a second he thought the allusion to be of Amira's but this confident woman was not her. Thirty something year old Nisrine had more in common with him than he thought but he refused to be entranced. He could not help but listen to her poems and when she shrugged her shoulders lazily, her suggestion drew more reluctance than he wished he could control.

"Erik, come here and let me show you," She lifted a finger as the bangles on her wrists clashed together.

And when he had clenched and unclenched his fist, he opened his mouth and let out two words. "Get out."

"Daroga, I admire your hat, it's a flatterin' on your head," Erik slurred, leaning on his chair until the back two legs tilted back. He fiddled with the empty opium bottle in his hands and then he clutched his chest, standing up. "Damn, this hurts like hell,"

"Erik, what happened?" Nadir Khan ushered his friend back down into his chair.

"I dunno, Nadir, how do you know when you love a woman or not?" His head hit the table with a thud as he folded his hands over his head.

"You should just know," Nadir raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"But you mean, like a actual being, you know? I'm so sick of pretending it's all some sort of a school boy crush or like its my goddamn soul." He cringed as a shock of ache hit his head. Then he raised his head and reached for the cold water.

"Is it…" Nadir Khan knew better than to participate in gossip, especially involving his good friend, but this was the sake of the entire royal family when a married woman decided to fool around with the khanum's assistant.

"Nisrine? I reckon so," He gulped down the last droplets in his cup.

"Erik! You-" He paused. How could he tell him not to forget Amira for if he was never to see his first love again he might die. But then how could he tell him to forget her when he was foolishly tangling himself with something he could not handle.

"She cornered me today, Nadir," Erik revealed, "I was scared. I didn't know what I truly wanted. I thought of Amira. I think of her so much," A choke came unto his throat as he continued, "And when that bloody snake asked me to, I felt so guilty. Now I'm so confused. Did I ever love her because she was mine, because she was beautiful, or am I just so caught in this obligation that I never really loved her? That I was just hormonal as the next boy? What could I feel for Nisrine? I never-" He stopped, and he pretended Nadir could somehow understand this, could have some sort of telepathy so he did not need to say it out loud. Opium, by now, was by no means making him realize the gravity of his words. _Understand. I can't understand. The fact I'm so fascinated by Nisrine. She's a smart devil. _

"What do you wish me to answer?" Nadir sighed.

"Why the cosmos decided to bring me to this goddamned place," He lifted his head to say that solemnly.

"You should know how you feel, Erik," He answered.

"I just want her back," He closed his eyes. This time the distance was blurring his vision. He blinked and blinked. But she never appeared.

He stumbled his way back to his apartment. He tried to occupy his mind with Reza, whose health was failing day by day. That did not help. Then when he walked into his room, a rolled up parchment laid on his bed. When he opened it, his eyes had to adjust but the penmanship was lovely. Right to left, right to left in arching swirls.

_Joon, _

_I admit. I should not have approached you so. I assumed that was a mutual feeling. But it has got me thinking. Do you want to see your odalisque? I shall arrange a private meeting for the two of you. Please do not treat me so, I merely want to be your _friend_. If you agree, come tomorrow at five, after the last prayers of the day. We shall be waiting for you in the gardens. I will not apologize for what I did, and I will not forgive you for what embarrassment you have caused me. Good night. I shall expect you as always._

_N._

Erik crumpled the paper with a groan. He didn't know why he did groan.

**an: yo. hope you enjoy and things will be changing! duhduhduh! thanks for reading!**


	25. Chapter 25

Amira could feel the sudden thump of her heart increase in speed with every hustle, every rustle in the gardens. And suddenly, it was beyond surreal. Her eyes locked with his, and so heavy were her sockets. An imperative glance was all that he gave Nisrine beside her, whom the both of them had completely forgotten about. In a second, his arms were over her, her face crushed against his torso and as if they only had so little time, their hands tangled in a fest. Then his kisses were on her and electrifying. She felt sudden shivers and when he choked out her name in between the desperate kisses, a few tears escaped her eyes. This was it. This woman was it. Suddenly, there was no need for confusion, Amira was in his arms again. That was all that mattered and the fierce determination ruled over him. He would rescue her.

Nisrine cleared her throat. The endearing moments were too private even for her.

And the two stood side by side, wild looks of surprise on their face, releasing their hands from each other's grasps. Erik had to bite his lip not to turn around and look at her. And when sudden movement emitted from Amira, who collapsed to the ground, he was ready to leap.

"Nisrine, you are most splendid!" Amira cried, bowing several times to the woman in front of her, her veil falling back on her face.

"Enough." Nisrine snapped her fingers, and Amira hesitantly stood up. And turned to stare at Erik with a smile. Erik could only smile back, his whole body aching to hold her again. She was dressed nicely in a pine green outfit, albeit too big for her frame. Her hair was longer than he recalled, and her face a little older than before but lo and behold, was Amira.

"Meet me here again at sunset." One eyebrow arched as she coldly glared before walking away.

"Thank you, thank you" Erik could here the teetering she made and again, he lifted her burka veil to kiss her once more. The two of them found their way to his room.

Doors slamming. The only sound was the violent smacking of their lips, pressed to each other. His hair, carefully gelled this morning was nothing but a mess of fur, half of their attire flew to areas not part of their bodies until Amira hit the soft mattress of the bed. And she pushed him off, taking in long awaited breaths.

"Let me go," She whispered.

"What?" He blinked a few times, reaching for his mask, which had fallen off sometime before.

"Please," She sat up tearfully, arranging herself.

"Amira, what happened?" He reached a hand forward as she jerked his touch away.

"Please, Erik," The way he released her name made Erik want her even more, "I'm not pure."

"What? If that ass laid one hand-"

"No, I'm menstruating," She closed her eyelids in exasperation, "I totally forgot. It's wrong, to be associated with a female during her monthly cycle. I should be sleeping on the floor."

"What do you mean?" He growled, pulling her up by the arm, "Fuck it, Amira. I love you and I want to show you that,"

She didn't turn away when he leaned in to kiss her and somehow she liked it. She liked his seizing of the reins, no more hesitancy.

"You do not need to sleep with me," He whispered, "Just let me hold you,"

"But…" She allowed herself to chuckle, "I want you so much,"

"Nisrine is a bitch. She knew, didn't she?" Erik kissed her fiercely as Amira shook her head in protest, "I don't care, you see, Amira, I'm never going to let you go."

She nodded in content, her arms draping over his chest, her top of her head under his chin.

"Erik I-" She began before shaking her head, "No, I guess this doesn't matter,"

She squirmed a bit out of his grasp, before comfortably taking off his mask again. Erik emitted a low moan but when she produced the biggest and most relaxed smile, he had to as well. She leaned up, her fingers tickling his jaw before planting a big kiss on him.

"I love you, Erik," it came out of her mouth as natural as breath, and then she sat up straight on his bed.

"You may think this…" She shied away from his glance, "but I want to see Reza."

Looking at the familiar sprawl of paper on his desk, the voice sounded as cocky as Erik ever could be. "What are we waiting for?"

"Nadir!" the phantom embraced his surprised friend after he opened his door.

"Allah!" Nadir exclaimed to the sight of no doubt, Amira standing there in a dark green dress and her hands clasped together.

"Enough, will you invite us in?" He seemed rushed and Nadir waved them in, as the guards squinted their eyes all around the palace.

"She wanted to see Reza," Erik stripped his jacket off his shoulder with a careless grin before turning back to a silent Nadir Khan.

"Daroga?" His voice suddenly grew timid. He scurried forward, his eyes level to Nadir's, who was ignoring his gaze. Something had obviously happened in the short while he was gone.

"Go on, he's-" The policeman grabbed hold on the back of the western chairs in his room, burying his face in one hand, "Allah, Erik, it's getting worse."

Erik's expression was stoic and blinking back he turned to find Amira. She was inching closer to Reza's room, yet looking as if she was a stranger. That this did not include her.

He brought himself to the room and with one glance of agreement with the fifteen year old, the two walked into the room.

"Reza?" Erik walked to the bedside, leaning down, "Shh…It's me, Erik,"

"A weary tilt of the head acknowledged him.

"I brought Amira here," He took one of the little boy's frail hands, "Remember her?"

The rustling behind him was confirmed as Amira took the boy's hand too.

"Erik, this is horrible!" Amira whispered tearfully and a slight panic entered Erik's heart.

"Quiet," He replied, before smoothing back the little boy's hair from his sweaty face. And through that one hour, the odalisque watched the shadow of a father tenderly loving a child, she watched how wicked the world was, and she watched how wonderful it was for people like Erik to be in the world. Drool escaping his mouth finally meant their visit was over and the masked man looked as if he had been through hell. Amira turned to him and took one hand, as he jolted from his fazed expression. As if a sixth sense had detected it, he turned, which caused her to turn and hold on tighter to his hand, and there was the rightful father of poor Reza standing at the doorway mournfully.

"It's time," Erik released, the words strangely weighty on his tongue.

When Nadir nodded, Amira knew what he meant, and she turned to look one last look at Reza.

Before she knew it, Erik had withdrawn a vial from his pockets and her green eyes widened. This was not what she thought.

"What are you doing?" Her voice quavered as it raised to a little above a whisper.

"Amira. I have to do this. This is the only way he can die peacefully," Erik gritted out, as Nadir stepped closer to his son.

"No! You cannot!" Amira lunged for the vial but Erik's face had turned angry.

"Get out of the room, Amira, let me handle this," He sounded annoyed.

"But-"

"I know what I'm doing, Nadir and I decided this a long time ago," He took a breath.

"You're a monster!" She cried out before leaving the room.

Erik could not focus. She was outside crying, Nadir was praying audibly, Reza was sleeping innocently, and the words rang too clear in his head. He was a monster. He was trained to kill, hired to be an Angel of Death. Hell. The liquid scorched down Reza's throat, and he squirmed, but one cold hand made him shiver and suddenly the sick boy was still. Nadir had his eyes wide open and he closed the eyelids, kissing them hard before his own filled with water. Erik was at a lost of words and the only ones were morbidly ironic. He was at rest now. And yet Erik's conscience was anything but that.

When he stepped into the room, a fresh breeze of air filled his nostrils and something-someone-rammed into his arms. Amira was sobbing into his arm.

"You saved him from a horrible death," God, he sounded so stupid.

"You killed him! You killed a child!" She pounded her fists on his chest, stomping her foot once or twice. Then her shoulders felt some shaking and a hand grabbed her cheeks, squeezing them so that her blurry eyes looked at the familiar yellow ones of her dreams.

"You shut up," He growled.

And she blinked, gulping for air before she settled down and with heavy breaths, wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he returned the gesture with his arms around her waist. It felt like hours had passed but pretty soon, she hiccupped and Erik let go, with one more exclamation. "Merde."

It was a hustle of hugs, a bustle of words and soon he was grabbing her hand and they were walking at a pace near running and into the gardens they went. The sun had seemed to have long gone and he looked far and wide for Nisrine. "Damn!"

Until the wind blew the familiar wind, had Erik noticed a scroll sitting under a rock and picking it up he read:

_Again, you disappoint me. I underestimated you. You clearly love that girl. I'll only be able to hold this off for a week. But bring her back next week. NEXT WEEK. _

_N._

And he turned to Amira. And as if the storm had passed, Erik let out another smile.

**AN: OMG. LONG TIME NO UPDATE! well hello there! So, Im wondering, split this up and start new story? or continue on? I realize this story might go on for a bit of a time ;) Thanks for reading! **


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